


Cracked Reflections

by ForcedRedacted



Series: Men & little Monsters [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Chocobo Healer MVP, Copious use of Chocobo Healing, Elidibus was always an adult in this AU, Fix-It, I suppose I should spoiler for SHB?, Manderville family is canon, Multi, Not Yet(tm) as weird as the ending of B&F, Spoilers, Spoilers for DRK questline, Time Travel, Warrior of Variable Luminosity, gotta tag the main relationship now i guess, no beta we just die, something goes wrong
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:28:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 51
Words: 114,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25965886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForcedRedacted/pseuds/ForcedRedacted
Summary: There are three parts to every person. Mind, body and soul. All of these are formed of aether.Not all of them time travel as easily as the others.
Relationships: Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Series: Men & little Monsters [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1504361
Comments: 216
Kudos: 78





	1. Prologue

Limsa Lominsa, bustling port city, was a major trading hub. It was located near where a crystal of light - the water aspected one - lingered, placed ahead of time and awaiting Hydaelyn's Chosen. It was where Y'shtola sat on the dock, watching the aether through a set of Sharlayan goggles. 

Most importantly, it was where a scruffy midlander hyur with a black mask and the unfortunate ability to witness the painful parts of the pasts of the downtrodden whether she wanted to or not was scrounging for whatever she could to make a living. It was where she had stopped abruptly, staring blankly at the rabbit she had been slowly stalking. Pain had blossomed through her mind, and she had instinctively frozen in place, every muscle tense with the ingrained habits of someone who relied on silence to survive. 

The initial surge of aether lasted only the briefest of moments, but her Echo latched onto it and, for the first time, remembered something other than someone else's past.

_(Somewhere in the world, an incredibly old man was startled from where he had dozed off and blinked rapidly. He could have sworn... But no. It was impossible.)_


	2. Chapter 2

Not believing what she had seen until she crept down to the docks, the Warrior almost felt bad for what she was about to do. The white haired miqo'te was on the pier, essentially alone beyond the dockworkers who moved to and fro with their crates and conversations. She was even using the goggles. That made her essentially _blind_ beyond aether. And the field of view through them was just -horrible-. It was a small price to pay, though, as she came up behind her and unceremoniously clubbed her upside the head. Just enough to disorient, and during the resulting shouting she snagged the goggles and dove off the pier. 

She always _had_ been a strong swimmer, but right then Priscilla lamented the lack of the Kojin blessing. Regaining such was added to her 'to do' list. Sometime after she reached her destination, which wasn't going to be any time soon. The inability to use an aetherite properly had meant she and Thancred were forced to hoof it-

No. There wasn't a Thancred yet. Well, there was and there _wasn't_. They'd met as children, and separated, but-

She was thinking too hard about it. She hauled herself out of the water along the coast, gasped for air as her arms and legs recovered from being jelly, and then circled back around to steal her chocobo. There was no doing this alone. Kweh would be _great_ company.

* * *

Sneaking _into_ Limsa Lominsa was always easier than sneaking _out_ of it. Priscilla felt it would only be -twice- as hard as it should have been, considering Kweh couldn't yet fly (another thing added to the 'to do' list, as soon as she had time to head to Dravania. All that meant, though, was that more people would probably see her. Shaking her head to clear it, she made her way to the stables by the gate and perused the birds. Hands in her pockets, stolen and edible goods tucked away out of sight. 

There, the untrained birds that were close to maturity. Dark blue feathers, almost black. Standing off to the side, avoiding the others. He had always been something of an unusual bird. Smart, but... Carnivorous tendencies. Pecking at the others had made them ostracize him. Her Kweh, who sure, he -would- eat greens, but...

Priscilla produced a rat corpse, and threw it at him. A few of the other birds warked at the projectile, before he snapped his focus to it. A croon, and then he was eating it in two chomps. She threw another, and he caught the point of origin and scarfed the rat down as he padded closer, hoping for more. 

She fed him the third through the fence, and heard the shouting of their keeper. The fourth was tossed from hand to hand as she backed away, sliding the mask to the side to grin at him after a moment. "C'mon Kweh. Plenty more where that came from, but you just gotta get over that fence."

The dark blue chocobo warked at her, pushing against the wall before, between beak and claws, climbing over and chasing her for it. She made it to where a fifth was tied to a stick, and dashed back to clamber onto his back and start leading him with it away from the city. It was fortunate that she was small, and light. Not quite a fully grown bird, he wasn't yet meant to carry weight, let alone without a saddle. 

She would worry about it later. Her next stop was a little further inland, and time was short. She would have to push him, to carry her to the divot and hope he stuck around long enough for her to grab what she needed before they headed to the next port. 

Really, she needn't have worried. The goobbue that lingered in the cave with the inactive crystal was occupied with some of the former pirates from Summerford. She wished them the best as Kweh dashed around the room, and leaned to snag the defunct prism before straightening and urging the bird to charge on out of there. Shouts rose after her, but she didn't pay them any mind. 

Just another checkpoint in her Plan. 

She spent the next day taming Kweh and pushing northwest, heading for Aleport. A quick dip into Swiftperch and a few subtle words of warning had them -possibly- prepared for what was to come. As much as Priscilla wanted to stick around to help them, she had suggested that maybe Y'shtola or the Scions might be able to help them. 

And then fled, stealing a change of clothes and a whole whack of black ink. Another day's travel and she was inside Aleport, haggling for passage to Vesper Bay with her 'black' chocobo. The very next morning, she and Kweh were well on their way, leaving La Noscea behind. 

* * *

Urianger didn't know what to expect when he opened the door to his rooms to find them -occupied-. By a stranger, no less, wearing bland travel clothes and a plain black mask with two holes for the eyes. Someone who had hauled his armchair away from his desk, but also seemed to have very carefully stacked his notes and books out of the way. 

And with enough care to avoid disrupting the patterns he had placed them in, he noted. It was possibly the singular reason as to why he hadn't just shut the door and fled, shouting for help. 

"I've got a quarter of a bell to blow your mind with as much info as I can. Don't say anything, you'll make me lose my train of thought. I _can't_ do this alone though."

She stood, and picked her way carefully over to his kitchenette to start making tea. Making it the way he enjoyed it, he noted, without asking. Without checking. Habitually, in fact, with a practiced manner. 

He sat down in the vacant chair and listened intently as she started to speak, remaining silent through it all.

* * *

Kweh, outfitted now with the bare minimum for a saddle, bit and bridle, ran. It would take weeks for them to cross Thanalan and Gridania both, the linkpearl the astrologi-

_(No, he's a scholar. He never went to the First, not this one. Not yet.)_

-Urianger had given her tucked against her ear, answering what she could during the long hours of travel that were split between riding the stolen chocobo and walking along beside it to keep from running the poor bird into the ground. She hadn't been certain he would believe her, but with his penchant for _keeping secrets_ she felt perhaps he would be the easiest to trust with what she thought had happened. When he inevitably asked about her current path east and then north, she had mentioned that there were others she needed to find. 

Priscilla didn't _name_ them. But she did ask that he make sure there were resources for her at some of the outposts. Some of the elezen's questions were clearly to test her knowledge, to cross-reference what she knew and what she couldn't have known, but did. Most were answered as best she could manage, though he seemed to accept the fact that he himself was a secretitive sort, which made answering anything too in depth somewhat difficult. 

That the Warrior didn't have the best memory for small details was also a factor that worked against her. The ability to name and describe all of the scions as well as their relationships with each other had helped. So had being able to recite some, if not most of Minfillia's past as well as a clearer picture of what had happened at the battle of Carteneau.

How he had seemed to feel about Moenbryda too, and she was _honest_ about it even as she kept the memory of her own feelings subdued. That could wait until things wouldn't be -too- awkward. There was also the matter of 'Yda' and Papalymo, and who the former had turned out to be. 

Nobody had known that one. She assumed he must have confirmed it, because the next time they spoke he had promised to make sure there would be food for her and Kweh at Black Brush Station. 


	3. Chapter 3

She had to admit, sneaking into _Garlemald_ wasn't the brightest idea she'd ever had. But she remembered what he was like when he was tempered, and of all the Ascians... well, that and the fact that she _missed_ him after the week and a half she had spent first rushing across the countryside and then smuggling herself across the border. Even if she hadn't _known_ him like that, she remembered the countless stolen moments they had (would? _Could_ _?_ ) shared. If she hadn't practiced sneaking through the major city when it had come to bothering Zenos, she might have failed entirely. As it was, she lacked the Blessing-given speed and strength she had once possessed, which made it... 

_Difficult._

She hoped he was watching her. She didn't doubt that he would have been able to, not with his Sight. What would make the difference would be how much he was paying attention. She had been trying to aetherically shout his name the entire time she crawled through the air ducts, and only stopped when she came out in the throne room to find Varis sitting in the horribly ostentatious chair. 

Crowned. Which made her curse, because it meant she was probably too late. What else made her curse was the fact that he drew a gun and _shot_ her as she tried to scurry back into the duct, which left her cringing in pain as some of the guards hauled her out. Dropping her on the ground, she kept both hands on the hole in her thigh, and prayed that he hadn't hit anything _vital_. 

"Well well, yet another Eorzean spy. How unusual, that you would use the means you did. I thought even your kin possessed more intelligence than that." 

"Well, y'know what they say. When in Garlemald, make the biggest dickish move you can. Did I miss your grandfather? I came for him, not you." Not good, she thought to herself as she tried to ignore the ever spreading pool of blood beneath her. Her pulse pounded in her ears, and she grit her teeth into something of a smile as she stifled hysteric laughter. Too little, too late, and now she was going to bleed out and-

"Come to kill an old man, who lay on his deathbed? Hoping to incite turmoil, during his final hours?" Varis scoffed, and she blinked blearily as she rapidly found herself becoming light headed. He was still talking, she mused to herself, even as his words started to sound as though they were coming from farther and farther away. He wasn't looking at her any more, but... 

But...

* * *

Something was _beeping_. Something was _beeping_ and it was _annoying_ and it pulled her out of the fuzzy warm blackness she had no recollection of falling into. The ceiling was certainly different, if somewhat recognizable. Turning her head, she slowly took stock of the way the harsh glare illuminated the room in the-

_Hey wait, this isn't the Medicus._

Priscilla shifted slightly, noting the dozen guards that were standing around the medical cot and the few machines she assumed would be on wheels and then the curtains that sectioned it from what looked to be a room with a familiar vaulted ceiling. She remembered it from the times she had-

_(There was no weekly sparring match with Zenos. Not yet.)_

Shaking her head, the Warrior peered at the guards and looked for one with fancier armor than the others. Not finding one, she cleared her throat and opened her mouth to address one of them only for them all to level an assortment of weapons at her. cautiously, Priscilla lifted her hands and tried again. 

"Look I'm practically strapped to this bed and from how dead my leg feels I don't think I could try and escape even if I wanted to. Just, uhh... _Please_ tell me this is the oldest Galvus' room, not the youngest."

They stared at her in silence, before a brittle, dry voice from further into the room wheezed out something of a laugh. A quiet 'Leave us' was breathed out from behind the curtain, before the guards crisply saluted and headed out. She waited for the sound of the door closing before clearing her throat and lowering her hands. 

"Oldest, then. They, uhh... They weren't kidding, when they said 'deathbed'. You sound horrible."

"How would you know for sure, Eorzean? I could be one of the princes, testing you." 

"Well, you're _loads_ more theatric than Zenos to start with. Sort've. You're also not challenging me to a duel. There's also the fact that I don't think anyone but someone who outranks Varis could order people to keep me alive." Priscilla shifted slightly, sitting up and inspecting her leg. Difficult to address the wound, what with how she had been shot in the -back- of the thigh, but there was no exit hole. Moving too quickly made her light-headed, which painted a grimace across her face. "Should I be trying to find a way to raft my wheeled chariot over to you, or are you going to teleport over here?" 

" _Teleport?_ Garleans-"

"-can't, no. But that's rarely, if ever stopped you in private company."

Silence answered her. After a few moments, she slowly started to look around to see if there was anything she could use to push herself around, before one of the curtains abruptly slid aside. It was the aged, withered figure that commanded her attention, long white beard neatly plaited as two burning gold eyes stared at her from a wrinkled face. One that pulled into confusion at her visible relief, before Solus studied her in greater detail. 

"Twelve, Hades, you have _no_ idea how glad I am to see you." Flopping back onto the cot, Priscilla tucked her hands behind her head and grinned. "You're probably asking yourself, 'How does she know? She looks Sundered. Hydaelyn couldn't possibly have told her, and Zodiark _can't_.' and started going through the roster of the active Ascians to try and figure out if any've _them_ know your name. I'll tell you now, the only one who might is Elidibus but he's got nothing to do with this."

" _Awfully_ cheeky -and- chatty for someone who-" Solus grimaced, turning slightly as he started to cough. The sound had a dry, rattling quality to it, before he waved a hand with a look of annoyance. 

"Who's completely at your mercy and has no reason to be so talkative to _the_ ailing Emperor of Garlemald? And Allag. And a whole bunch of other empires that I don't know the names of. I'm _hoping_ that I've baffled and intrigued you, because you could very easily just kill me and there'd be very little I could do about it." The grin turned somewhat sheepish as she settled her hands on her stomach and twiddled her thumbs. "I'll tell you everything I can, as best I can, but I need you to keep Solus alive for a bit longer, alright?"

" _Why_ exactly ought I believe anything you have to say?" A bony hand reached forward to steady him against the side of the bed He leaned over her somewhat, and she blinked before clearing her throat. 

"Because I'm the Eschaton?" 

Her expectant look was spoiled somewhat by the way he furrowed his brows and tilted his head. 

"The what?"

* * *

Her explanation had drawn no more than a baffled shake of his head as he muttered under his breath and tottered off to all but collapse into an overstuffed armchair and elevate his feet. A snap of his fingers had lit a fire in the grate, before a pipe was produced and lit in a similar fashion so that he could think and smoke. Something was _wrong_ , things weren't lining up the way her memories had indicated they should have. There was no 'Botanist', he had said. 'Eschaton' meant nothing to him, though when she had mentioned Amaurot in a last-ditch effort to convince him to at least _try_ and remember the title he had seemed startled and begrudgingly admitted that part, at least held some semblance of truth. It _had_ existed. It would take time to discern if the cave she had spoken of held murals, and just how intact the ruins might be but until he did, she was to stay exactly where she was and at least _try_ to behave. 

Unable to walk, considering she didn't have the ability to heal herself, the Warrior didn't have a choice in the matter. As he smoked and mused, a meal was delivered and - almost as grudgingly as he had admitted to the existence of the City of the Ancients - waved to float the meat pie over to her. She dug into it hungrily, and finished it as he stared at a wall and made faces, ignoring the hyur. It wasn't until she narrowed her eyes and tried to speak his name through the aether that he twitched and panned his gaze over to stare at her. 

"Stop that."

"I need the practice. It's hard enough to do when I don't have much in the way of an ability to use aether. I've got a chocobo tethered outside the wall. His name is Kweh, and he's omnivorous with carnivorous tendencies. I'm gunna be stuck here for a while, so I need y-" A snap of his fingers silenced her, and her jaw worked for a few moments before she gave him a withering glare at her inability to speak. 

" _Need_. Presumptuous little thing, aren't you." A smug look answered the way she stuck up her middle finger and waved it at him. "I don't know who you -are-, Savage. You broke into my country, and got yourself shot by my grandson. Some humility and thankfulness wouldn't be remiss."

"...-up your as-Ah, I can talk again. Right. The only thing that'll convince you is your own senses, right? You need _proof_. Things only you would know and wouldn't tell to anyone, right? You gave Aileth a pendant to suppress her blessing-" She _knew_ what anger looked like on him, and when his posture stiffened she knew she was rather suddenly on borrowed time. She decided to speak faster. "-and the other convocation members stopped you from doing so yourself while she gave birth to your son, and you've never forgiven them for it. _Look_ at me, Emet-Selch. Look at my soul. The only one who had better sight was Hythlodaeus. You kept making gardens reminiscent of the place we all met, as Amaurotine kids. My -name- was Persephone. _Look at the colour of my soul_."

A scoff answered her as the aged Garlean shook his head and looked away with an annoyed expression. "The colour is-"

"Faded, washed out, but _unmistakable."_ Priscilla interrupted, before smiling slightly at the way his shoulders tensed. "... You have a vault with most, if not all've my past corpses. You're tired, I know. Eighty some-odd years as a mortal will _do_ that. But you're not seeing things. I'm _real_."

"Say that you are. What then? Why _here_ _?"_ Solus zos Galvus turned to stare at her, expression unreadable as she winced. "Go on. You, who were so adamant to _talk_."

"... Because of you. I didn't even know if any of this was real, until I checked and things were roughly lining up. I found what I was looking for, where it was supposed to be. I got-" Priscilla paused, before clearing her throat. "... Okay, so my Echo pulls memories from others around me. Looks into the past. But I got a -huge- headache and all these memories and visions of the future. Of -a- future. A future where the Shards rejoined the Source, where all the Ascians were back and you were happy. In -this- generation."

The Garlean Emperor scoffed, but settled back into the overstuffed armchair and gestured to her. 

"I will call for food and drink for you. I will call for your bird to be stabled, and I will delay the inevitable decay of this body. But you will _tell_ me, and you will go into as great of detail as your feeble mind can manage. If what you say hold true, then I will consider not killing you at the end of your tale." 

Priscilla grimaced, but nodded. It was the best she could hope for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: if the artery in the thigh is severed, people can bleed out in -minutes-. This is why Priscilla lost consciousness so quickly.


	4. Chapter 4

Emet-Selch's chest felt tight, and it had nothing to do with the decaying vessel he inhabited. 

After the first six hours that she talked, trying to start from what she considered the beginning, he lifted a hand to silence her and paged in one of his aides. True to his word, he ordered that her chocobo be found and taken the utmost care of, and food and drink for his most unexpected guest. He could tell she was glossing over a fair bit of detail, but the admittance that she had spent most of the time she had been set against primals utterly drunk to try and manage her Echo. 

While she availed herself of the tea and assortment of soups and stews, he studied her. What had started as annoyance at how he had been drawn from his rest on the very eve of his vessel's intended demise at an incredibly off-putting, mangled _buzz_ that had sounded just enough like his name for him to be unable to avoid reacting had ended in ways even he could not have foreseen. She had been right. A little bit of teleportation in private company once he had stopped truly caring about appearances was a useful thing, and likely the only reason he had made it to the throne room in time to see her. To see her -soul-, first hand. 

_He would have known that colour anywhere._

He had seen it when it was the barest, thinnest gossamer silk of the same shade. So fragile that a heavy breath could have torn it asunder. He had seen it when it was more solid and real than the world around him. He would know it in his _sleep_. 

It surprised him, and he had found himself instinctively raising his voice to command his grandson to stay his hand even as he strode over with the command and grace he had possessed in his youth. Reaching out, he had _denied_ the soul the ability to move on, just for the moment, and had found himself puzzled at how Varis mentioned she had been there for _him_. An Eorzean, unarmed, unarmored and bleeding out because of a bullet wound through the back of the thigh. 

Countless moments of watching her pass on, unaware of his presence, and now she was here searching for him. An incarnation that he had somehow _missed_. He stood aside as she was tended to on the floor, medical staff working to extract the bullet and apply potion after potion to her unnaturally pale form. 

He was reminded of Aileth, staring up at him from the bed she lay in, covered in sweat and her own viscera as she held out their son in victory. 

She would have one chance, he decided. One singular opportunity. He hadn't been disappointed. 

This... Priscilla, had covered things that had yet to happen. She had known about the death of Solus, though she hadn't been entirely certain when the death was supposed to happen. She knew about Lahabrea mucking about in Gridania. Haukke manor. Tam-Tara Deepcroft. Ifrit. The plans for Titan. The plans for Garuda. The reason why - the Heart of Sabik, that the primals were necessary for it to beat, that it was a fragment of Zodiark's power and the purpose of Ultima. She named a number of Garleans and where they stood with each other. Of course, by then she had sounded hoarse, which was what had prompted him to bid her to pause in the first place. 

The plans of the Ascians, laid bare by memories of the far-flung future. 

He would have liked to continue listening to her, but Elidibus now lingered in the aether. He would have to navigate the path very carefully, to keep from letting on to too much. She was a valuable resource now, after all. 

* * *

"Alright. Now that I've-" Solus waved a hand at her, cutting her off before pushing himself up from the chair.

"I find this room naught but -stuffy-. Come, let us wander the halls. I find myself feeling almost _sprightly,_ and much recovered. Enough talk of your past." Picking his way carefully over to the wheeled cot, he eyed the machines and hooked most of them, leaving only the IV drip hooked to the frame. He muffled his amusement as she looked at him, confused, and then seemed to catch on as her eyes flit around to the walls. 

"-Right, one of the reasons I was looking for you was because I'm a _huge_ fan of theater, and I just think it's such a shame that the Prima Vista didn't seem to be in the skies. I heard you commissioned that for Jernomis uhh... Can't remember the middle part, but his last name's Lexentale, right?" Priscilla fidgeted on the bed as she was wheeled over to the door. It opened automatically, and she peered around as he started to solemnly meander through the halls, pushing her along. 

"Cen. Jernomis cen Lexentale. Varis seems keen on putting a limit on the creativity of such actors. Truly a shame. Have you seen any of their work?"

"I mean, yes but no? I got to see some of their work as they prepared for not one, but two unique pieces." The Warrior turned slightly, head tipped back so that she could watch him. "I think you'd like it. It's got a lot to do with remembering the past. Mostly making sure their team stayed safe and that they paid attention to the right details."

Solus nodded slowly, even as he worked to undo the damage to his vessel. Carefully turning a corner, he made for the door at the end of the hall and glanced down to eye her. "Not going to freeze during a quick jaunt outside, are you?"

"I was made of tougher stuff once, but whoever tucked me in made sure I had a mountain of blankets it seems."

"Good. Because the sitting room across the balcony is perfect for napping and all this walking and talking has tired me." Wrinkled features shifted, scrunching into a mostly-hidden smirk before they passed through the door. 

* * *

Bodies were -stifling-. Heavy, cumbersome things. Stretched out in yet another overstuffed armchair that had been strategically placed some time ago in the optimal location to catch as much sunlight as it could, Emet-Selch waited until he was certain Priscilla had dozed off as well before letting go of his vessel. From there, his senses were crisper. He studied her soul, silent as he felt Elidibus draw near. 

There was no mistaking that hue. Cerulean and ultramarine, and silver thread that held the pieces together. Hydaelyn's tempering, exactly the same as he recalled. Even with that added, unacceptable layer, she was _warm_. 

_**< <Emet-Selch.>>** _

**< <Elidibus.>>**

The response was automatic as the Architect searched the aether around them, making sure it was just them. Lahabrea was just over in Gridania, but the rest were still scattered or resting. That was good. He could _win_ against the Emissary. 

**_< <Why do you continue to cling to this empty shell? This broken, fragmented echo. We all agreed that direct interaction is ill advised, and naught but a distraction.>>_ **

There wasn't a _good_ way to answer that, and he was still reeling somewhat from how she had unexpectedly popped up. 'Yes, hello Elidibus, despite your best efforts to kill my ability to _feel_ I still find myself attached and capable of caring emotions'. 'Oh, how do you do Emissary. Fine day today. If you try and kill my wife this time I will personally make sure to utterly destroy you'. 

**< <Too long have we been without our Fourteenth member. I am considering determining how worthy this one might be, and the possibility of turning her to our lord Zodiark.>>**

Not a lie. Not quite the truth. He _was_ determining how worthy she might be, after all, and did plan to talk to her about the possibility of helping them once. she was finished talking. Of course, he would _try_ and see if she would be willing to forsake Hydaelyn. Somehow he didn't see that turning out particularly successful. 

_**< <Honourable Architect, you know as well as I that there is no way to raise the Fourteenth. They defected.>>** _

**< <They did. Perhaps as an Altima then. We shall see.>>**

_**< <You fully intend to disregard anything I would**_ **say. >> **The realization sounded resigned, and Elidibus let a sigh ripple through his aether. **_< <Why do you constantly intend to protect her, when the woman you knew is long gone?>>_**

**< <Can I not simply find myself entertained by the antics of a mortal? She broke into Garlemald and told my grandson that she would like to speak to a higher authority, after he shot her in the leg. This amused me.>>**

_**< <Perhaps she did. But you and I both know that certain colours catch your eye more easily than others, and it is no accident that you linger so closely to this** **one. >> **_The Emissary's aether shifted, before beginning to draw away. **_< <I simply come to advise caution. You know the price of straying too far from our plans.>>_**

Hades knew it all too well, and fought to keep from lashing out with a sharp retort as the beginnings of a plan spun into existence in his mind. 

* * *

"He's gone then?" 

Surprise after surprise. Solus opened his eyes and glanced over at Priscilla only to feel his brows furrow as she peered through the strangest looking goggles he had seen in a very long time. An aetheric measuring device, he surmised, but badly calibrated if how she was squinting and holding it so that she could peer through only one eye at a time. 

"He is."

"Lahabrea or Elidibus? You usually tried to work alone, from what I remember. And Elidibus was the one who tended to check up on you when able, so I'll guess it was him." The goggles were pulled up and set on her lap so that she could rub her temples, wincing. "Is there any way I can keep explaining things to you, but not ruin your plans to the point of you getting attacked? That's why they went after Aileth, right? She convinced you to change something about the plans you guys had for Garlemald." 

"Clever little mongrel, aren't you." The ascian held out a hand, gesturing for her to toss him the goggles. "Give those here. I don't know where you got them from, but whomever calibrated them for you did a horrible job."

"Probably 'cause they weren't calibrated for me, but for the miqo'te I stole them from. I can't see or sense aether the way you can, so I needed something to help me with that and she was the easiest target. I've already left an apology for her." Priscilla grinned sheepishly at him before lobbing the device over. "You eventually built me a mask that did the same thing, but loads better you know. I'll get to that part later though."

"However did you smuggle them in here? They searched you for weapons. Although, I suppose they could passably be presumed to be a set of binoculars." Catching the goggles, Solus settled them on his lap and started to fiddle with them, periodically glancing over. "To answer your question, Solus zos Galvus must needs die. Potions and medical aid provided here in Garlemald should restore your ability to walk within a week-"

"No, that'll take too long. Put me on Kweh and come with me. You were due to sleep after all, not go back into active service and what you do with your time off is your business, not Lahabrea's or Elidibus'. 'Sides, when your body kicks it, from what I remember of your plan, you tell Varis about what you are and then he uses Allagan technology to clone you some younger bodies. I can explain what I can until they're ready, and then we can see where we're at. I don't want to be in Garlemald when the civil strife breaks out, I'm freakin' _weak_ right now." The Warrior grimaced, before looking down and flexing her toes within the socks she had been left with. "I feel _naked_ without any weapons on me."

Emet-Selch blinked, before bushy brows furrowed. They hadn't gotten to that part of her story. Which meant there was clearly far more than he anticipated left to it. Slowly, the Architect nodded, even as he tried to stifle the hope that bloomed through him as he repeated her words to himself. 

_Come with me._

Once upon a time he had declined the offer. 

He wasn't going to again.


	5. Chapter 5

Priscilla awoke with the distinct impression that falling asleep hadn't exactly been her idea. Her leg still hurt, and she had the distinct feeling that if she tried to use it she wasn't going to like the result. Without the ability to see in pitch black conditions, she felt around and realized she must have been in the storage compartment of a carriage of some kind. Listening for a moment, she caught the muffled sounds of a chocobo warking somewhere nearby, and voices. Gridanian accents? 

The carriage lurched, and she reflexively threw an arm over her head to protect it from the inevitable thump. Ah. So she was moving then. The last thing she remembered was agreeing that they needed a plan to get her out of Garlemald, and that she wasn't leaving without Kweh. 

"Ah, good. You're awake."

A startled sound was bit back as a red glyph lit the compartment, and she blinked at the six inch tall floating image of Emet-Selch in his Ascian robes. The snicker she tried to throttle escaped, and she clapped her hand over her mouth at the way the miniature Architect folded his arms. 

"Here I am, attempting to _aid_ you and you _laugh_ at me. I should have let you bleed out. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to compact myself down like this?"

"Very difficult, you're so very good at it." The way her lips twitched and betrayed the grin threatening to overtake her expression drew a huff as the not-very-mollified Architect scowled. "Sorry! It just wasn't what I expected to see. So uhh... Mind filling me in? What happened."

"I -do- mind, but in the interest of maintaining something of a working relationship I will anyway." Emet-Selch sniffed, before rotating in place to put his back to her. "I took the initiative and killed two birds with one stone. My previous vessel is dead, I explained things to Varis. He _spat on my casket,_ and then we left."

"There's a lotta big holes there for why I don't remember any of this."

" _You_ tried to get out of the cot and fell unconscious due to blood loss, learning very quickly how easily such things can tear healing tissues. The -only- reason why you aren't dead is because of me. You can thank me at any time."

"Thank you, oh great and omnipotent Founding Father of the Garlean Empire." The intonation was solemn, and drew a narrow-eyed glare from the Ascian as he drifted around to face her and the grin across her face. "What. You saved my life. Much as I'd -like- to give you a hug, you're a bit immaterial at the moment. So what'd you do, teleport us out of Garlemald? Tell me you didn't leave Kweh behind."

"Your feathered fiend of a friend is currently tethered to the very wagon you are hidden within. I stuffed you into the compartment and then directed the driver to head for the border. While we are still within Garlean territory, namely Ala Mhigo, we have been making fairly good time towards Gridania."

"Oh." Priscilla blinked at him, before clearing her throat. "... Thanks. No, really. I mean it. That bird means a ton to me." 

"Hmpf. 'Tis just one of the many you currently owe me. But this compartment _bores_ me. Come. let us get you into the wagon proper." A gesture had the air around her darkening before she was deposited in the bed of the wagon. The Warrior sucked in an appreciative lungful of air, and propped herself up on her elbows as Emet-Selch manifested above her, drifting along and rather more properly sized. "There. Now then. There is water to your left, and food to your right. Disregard the driver, he can neither hear nor see anything at the moment, and I would have you continue where you left off before while we have the opportunity."

* * *

She didn't press too hard for answers when she asked after the health driver. The Architect made a vague allusion to the fact that he was still alive and that once he was done with the highlander, the man would be free to go about his life as usual. She accepted it at face value, remembering his inability to lie and hoping there wasn't more to it than that. 

Priscilla found it hard to speak about Haurchefant, Ysayle and, by extension, Shiva once she had waded through what she remembered of the moogles, the 'onion-bun sprites' (sylphs, he corrected her),the sahagin and the chase of one 'Ivy'. Emet-Selch seemed to pick up on that and, surprisingly, suggested she perhaps take a break from all of her talking to work on some small physical exercises. Nothing strenuous enough to damage her leg further, but enough to make sure that she wouldn't have too much weakness in the limb. 

By then, the sun had set and the remaining moon now lingered high in the sky. Once she had finished what she could of the exercises, she stretched back out and tucked her hands under her head. "... Say, Emet-Selch, I've got a question for you."

"I would hope you have the mental acuity to formulate multiple."

"Asshat." The word was partially chiding, partly amused as she peered around and spotted him lingering near the wagon driver. "I trusted you, from what I can tell. A lot. And you trusted me too. Also a lot."

"None of these are questions." The words were drawled out as he shifted, drifting backwards and keeping pace to avoid losing his spot. " _Do_ get to the point."

"From what I can tell, they just sent my memories back to me. That was their big plan and all. D'you know any way to send them a message, let them know it worked?"

"Alas, time travel is not, in fact, my specialty. Although I do not doubt that given enough time, I could figure something out. Have you considered leaving your mark on history might simply be enough?" The masked figure paused, before his lips pulled into a frown as he folded his arms. "... No, that might not work. The simple fact that such knowledge exists would, in and of itself, plausibly be the cause of a divergent timeline. The answer is simply that at this current time, I do not."

"That's alright. I had to ask anyways." Priscilla smiled slightly, before settling back down and yawning widely. "... More stories when I wake up? I don't think I'm more than half-way through."

"If you failed to, I would be utterly disappointed indeed."

* * *

"I cannot believe that his plan worked. Fishing for a whale, with an -island-? 'Tis a wonder you did not get eaten."

"Was a close call there, once or twice. The shield generator got knocked clean off. I was more worried about the others fighting with me though. I might not've been able to get up and walk after, but I'm used to flirting with dea-" Priscilla blinked, before snickering and clapping a hand over her mouth for a moment. The Ascian drifting along with her quirked a brow, idly playing with the mask in his hands and wearing the image of his cloned self.

"Something funny, Priscilla?" 

"'Flirting with death'." At the way the second brow rose to draw level with the first, she coughed, dropped her gaze and waved a hand. "I'm just... We eventually got together. And you're a master of death-aspected aether. It's your affinity. Even if we're technically enemies right now, it's..."

"You miss it." Something in his tone drew her eyes back up to him. A bitterness, that had her frowning as he contemplated his mask. 

"... I do. And, I dunno. For me, this is at once both reassuring and _weird_ , because I've got these memories of being, uhh..." The Warrior swallowed slightly, before clearing her throat. "-Fond-, let's go with fond, of you. But that's not happened yet? Or... I don't know. I don't know -you-. But I remember all these things that you don't, and I don't... I dunno. I just don't know."

"You don't _know_." The words were drawled sarcastically before the mask vanished so that Emet-Selch could settle the backs of his hands against his hips, eyes narrowed. "And yet, by all accounts you charged across the countryside after an aetherically induced epiphany, just to find -me-."

"It-" She faltered, hunching her shoulders as she frowned and dropped her gaze again.. "Okay, when you say it like that it sounds -crazy-. Chasing a memory of a past that might not even come to exist. I just... I had to see you. And I knew if I didn't catch you before Solus died, I'd never be able to find you without killing Lahabrea."

"Even if it meant that I would be essentially a stranger, with no recollection of this emotional engagement? Who could have cast you away, sworn you were insane and wished you had never found me?" His words were surprisingly soft, and she glanced over to note he appeared to be sitting beside her, long legs stretched out in front of him as he leaned back against one of the crates. 

"Had to take that chance. And I mean, you are. Essentially a stranger, that is. But it was just... The thought of _not_ finding you didn't even cross my mind. Only that I had a very small window of time in which to do so before I would have to hire an excavation crew and try and figure out where your Vault is." She offered him a weak smile, and blinked as he lifted both of his hands and inspected the claws that adorned his gloves. 

"I understand, you know."

"I believe you. You looked for me for ages. I've only looked for you once, and... It's _hard_. The easy familiar-ness you spoke with me on the First - Oh yeah, that's where we properly met up, by the way, and you said you were tired of ascians working against you and getting killed, which was why you were going to try and work with us instead - isn't something I think I can do. I've sort of just been banking on giving you the best I've got when it comes to what happened, and what's liable _to_ happen to keep you entertained and _here_." Priscilla looked down at her hands once more, and resumed twiddling her thumbs. "... I don't... Want to come off as creepy, and end up making you disgusted and scare you off. I'd rather be useful, and entertaining, so that instead of being bored you want to stick around. Even if you don't remember the things I do."

"I _do_ have a possible solution, you know." Canting his head to the side, Emet-Selch glanced over and smirked as she perked up at his words.

"Trust you'd have one. You're better at this than I am. What helps?"

The Ascian leaned towards her, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "You could always try _flirting with death_." 

Hades felt his smirk grow as the Warrior opened her mouth to retort, blushed a bright red and then looked away with a sullen pout and mumbled comment about the fact that he was making fun of her.

* * *

Once they reached Gridania, shortly after the sun had set, Priscilla was carefully levered into Kweh's saddle. She said goodbye to the driver of the wagon, for all the good it did. By the time they were out of sight they still had yet to show signs of life beyond mild breathing. At her grimace, the Ascian huffed and folded his arms. 

"-Please-, they will be _fine_."

"Oh, I believe you. You can't _lie_. Not directly, which is why I didn't say anything. I trust you, for better or for worse." She smiled slightly, before blinking as he abruptly vanished. "... Emet-Selch?"

"Your bird has a long way to go and lacks the stamina to travel at the pace required to make it to the waking sands without taking _forever_." Red flared before Kweh's face, and she blinked as the chocobo craned his neck around to stare a her through the glyph. The beak opened, and the Ascian's voice emerged once more. "A steady pace, day and night ought to cut the travel time somewhat."

"There's a lot of things that could be said about this. I dunno if I want to say any of them." Priscilla cleared her throat, pinking slightly as she fished her mask out of the singular saddle bag she had picked up for Kweh in New Gridania. "Have you ever been a chocobo before? You sure you know how everything works?"

" _-Please-_ , 'tis a giant flightless bird with the possible impossibility of flight, regardless of how large or small the wings appear to be." Emet-Selch tossed his feathered head. "In fact, your little _pet_ might benefit from this. Surprisingly enough, they -are- still awake, albeit staying largely out of the way for the time being."

"Kweh's aware you're in his head?" The Warrior leaned to the side before recoiling as a wing came up and whapped her back into place. "Hey-"

"Disrupt my balance again, and I will make a litter and have you _dragged_. 'Tis a full two months from being a fully fledged bird, and the legs are clumsy enough without -you- making things difficult." The beak tilted up so that he could eye her, before he resumed picking his way along the path as the glyph went out. "To answer your question, he is. It seems fitting, almost, that every time I mentally picture you he responds with 'Wark'. It seems he has given you as useless a name as you have given him."

"I'm just surprised you can talk to him." She settled properly, trying to remain comfortable and wincing at the throbbing in her leg. 

"Talk is a particularly strong term. There are no words. Simply concepts, feelings and images-" The crest of feathers floofed up, as the chocobo paused mid-step, head turning this way and that as if looking for something. After a moment, he silently turned and started heading on an angle through the woods, muttering so quietly that Priscilla had to lean in to catch it. "... Lahabrea seems to be looking for me. Do not speak, do not get off, and we will pass unnoticed."

She nodded silently, and hunkered down as if physically making herself smaller would help.


	6. Chapter 6

After the third time that exhaustion almost made Priscilla tilt out of the saddle, and the subsequent fourth time she was whapped with a wing and startled back into a state of awareness, she came up with the brilliant idea of using the reins to tether her to the saddle. It was immediately disregarded as Emet-Selch brought the bird to a halt and hunkered down, tutting as the head came around to tug her onto her uninjured side with the beak.

They were almost completely through the forests of Gridania, and though neither of them spoke the fact that he made sure to keep Kweh tucked against her side with a wing thrown over her was enough to tell her that she could use the opportunity to get some sleep. It might have been the exhaustion, it might have been that on some level, she was still registering the presence next to her as that of the Ascian, but whatever it was she had tucked in against the side of the bird and almost immediately passed out. 

She slept fitfully. Priscilla had, even before her Echo and Blessing had filled out and started giving her weird vibes about whenever people were passing by, been a particularly light sleeper. By the fourth time she had found herself awake, she grumbled and thumped the flank of the bird lightly to see what could be done to wake Kweh up. The brief flare of the red glyph in front of his face told her everything she needed to know about where Emet-Selch might have been, and with a bit of difficulty and a fair bit of help, she hauled herself back into the saddle. 

Their next stop was in Ul'dah, where she _would_ have rented a room at the quicksand, save for the fact that she was still essentially poor. Because of that, they camped outside, rested for another couple of hours before she hauled herself back up and they pressed on. Or tried to, at least. 

They hadn't gotten very far, skirting the edge of the city before _bandits_ of all things stepped out from behind rocks and trees. Two archers and a pair of swordsmen with shields, who's armor looked to be just as scavenged as the rest of their gear. A roegadyn, two hyur and a lalafell. 

Priscilla disregarded the banter, and leaned to murmur to the chocobo. "I can't fight. Are we just running?"

" _-Please-_ , even you could take them if your leg was not a risk. Hop down. I tire of a lack of accommodations, and some proper food would do both you and this overgrown quail some good." The beak clamped down on the collar of her shirt, helping to steady her as she slid to the side and put her good leg under her. "Now then. I _trust_ you will manage to avoid getting yourself shot?"

"Hobbling for cover, I'm goin' I'm goin'..." She waved at the bird, before gingerly limping her way towards one of the rocks along the road as Kweh's body turned back to focus on the bandits. They had started to congratulate each other at their apparent win, considering the chocobo had been 'left' for them. It was their second mistake, as far as Emet-Selch was concerned. 

Their third was that the roegadyn sheathed his sword and reached for the reins. A brief flash of red and a particularly strong headbutt from Kweh proved a suitable outlet for the Ascian's spell, and the largest of their assailants abruptly dropped dead. The bird calmly stepped over the corpse and looked towards the remaining three. 

"It got Crunched Onion!" 

Priscilla peered around the edge of the rock, pursing her lips as she watched the three split and scatter, only for the chocobo to chase off after them. Considering the fact that the bird was faster on land, the lalafell didn't get far at all before going down under taloned feet. A hard right had Emet-Selch charging across the countryside, and she caught a brief flash of red before silence fell once more. Feeling it was safe enough, she ever so carefully picked her way back to the first corpse and started going through the pockets. 

A handful of gil, and a whetstone. The sword was a bit big for her tastes, so she left it and pocketed the snuffbox and pipe she found in one of the pouches. A dragging sound behind her caused her to crane her head around and blink at the chocobo that dragged another corpse over to her, looking disgruntled before dropping the arm held in his beak. "Unwashed, uncultured _savages_."

"I don't smell much better."

"Admittedly no, but I recall very deliberately dragging you through at least one waterfall on the way here. More than these lot seem to have done for themselves. Do not stray too far. I will be back with the other two." Turning, the chocobo padded off, and she grinned to herself as she started rooting through the pockets of the first of the two hyur. 

It was true. The first waterfall had been because of the smell, or so she had been told. The second had been to wake her up, after the second time she had nearly fallen out of the saddle. A brief search turned up more gil and a canteen that sloshed when she shook it. The third and fourth, once they were dragged within reach, each had pocket change and some particularly stale bread. 

"How much did they have?" 

"Between the four of them? All told, about thirtyish gil. Enough for a cheap meal." Priscilla grimaced as the beak clamped down on her collar and hauled her up enough for her to get her wounded leg over the bird and then settled into the saddle. "Not far now though. Maybe another day at a walk?"

"Save your gil then. A few hours travel will not kill you. Do _try_ not to fall off. As I have never been to the Waking Sands, it falls to you to ensure I do not take a wrong turn." The neck twisted and peered, making sure she was settled properly before starting to pad along when she pointed. 

"Follow the road into Scorpion Crossing, then follow it north to Horizon. There'll be a tunnel after that, and then we get to Vesper Bay. That's where we'll find the Waking Sands." 

"Wonderful. Now then. I believe you had managed to make it to your exploits in the Azim Steppe?" The chocobo started to pick up speed, and she grimaced as she resumed her tale.

* * *

As much as she would have liked to have used the linkpearl to tell Urianger she was on her way, every attempt to contact him with it had gone unanswered. Which meant she was particularly cautious when the particularly tired Kweh slowed to a stop outside of the building. She was helped down, before the bird stepped off to the side to curl up and rest. The Ascian withdrew from his body, and folded his arms as he eyed the otherwise nondescript building. 

"Well now. Clearly some aetheric effort has been made disguise this location. 'Tis faint to discern while focusing, but if I were to simply search this area with my aether alone I would _not_ have claimed this building housed anyone. At all." 

"A lot've work went into it, from what I understand, which is why when Elidibus found it everyone _freaked_. And then we up and moved." Gingerly hobbling over to the door, she pushed it open and peered around. A relieved smile spread under the mask before she pulled it off and cleared her throat at the lalafell that was rapidly moving to bar the way down the stairs. "Hey, Tataru is it? I'm here to see Urianger. He told me about this place, about the Scions. I've got the Echo."

"You can't- Oh. Well that changes things then." Tataru frowned, before turning to head down the stairs, beckoning for Priscilla to follow her. "Maybe you can pull him out of whatever project he seems to have lost himself in this time. He barely remembers to eat, these days." 

"Well, tell you what. Take care of my chocobo outside - the dark blue one - and give me a tray with enough food for three and I'll see what I can get him to eat. Maybe some containers of loose leaf tea, too, that's likely all he's been surviving on so far, when he remembers to make a cup." The Warrior grinned slightly as they reached the crossroad, ignoring the Ascian who was studying the ceiling. 

"Oh, goodness. Yes, just wait here, will you?" The lalafell hurried off, heading for the kitchen as the hyur turned to peer at Emet-Selch. 

"Minfillia is going to be able to see you, just like anyone else with the echo. If you at least pretend to be walking and just don't talk too much, even if they do they might not note anything odd about you and just think you're a really well dressed thaumaturge." 

"I will take it under consideration. I see now how they have hidden this location." Drifting down so that it at least looked like his feet were touching the floor, the Ascian gestured upwards. "Rather fresh work, but layered well."

She glanced up, before frowning. "I don't see anything."

"No, I suppose your limited ability to sense anything metaphysical _would_ prove to be a hindrance. Broken thing that you are, 'tis a wonder you can see anything at all." Folding his arms, the Architect sneered as his mask manifested and covered the upper half of his face. 

"Don't be _nasty_ -" Priscilla cleared her throat as she caught sight of Tataru hustling back with a large tray in her hands. "'Ey, welcome back."

"Everything I could get on such short notice." The pink-clad savior smiled up at her, relinquishing the tray before meandering back a few steps. "He was last seen in the library. Do you know where that is?" 

"I do. Thank you, Tataru." The Warrior offered her a smile, before starting off down the hall. 

"You do realize she is now calling someone on her linkpearl to have them keep tabs on you." Emet-Selch clasped his hands behind his back as he 'walked', glancing back and then studying the ceiling once more. Priscilla snickered, and shrugged.

"Didn't, but I mean it makes sense. I'm not surprised. Did you catch who it was?"

"Hmm. 'Thancred'?" 

The Warrior nodded, before balancing the tray on one hand and working to open the library door with the other. "That tracks. He's their best people-watcher, after all." 

"You described him as a white-haired midlander, I believe." Drifting ahead of her as she navigated the rows of bookshelves, the Ascian jerked his chin towards her left. "Don't look now, but he seems to have already found you."

Humming conversationally, Priscilla worked her way deeper into the library before clearing her throat. "Augurelt? You back here?"

There was no answer, and she shared a glance with the Ascian before grimacing and working her way to the back room the elezen tended to use for his studies. It took two tries to get the door open, after which she was glad she had put the tray down because once it was two hands came out to clasp her by the front of the shirt and haul her in. 

"True, all true! _How_ didst thou come across such knowledge, thou _must_ tell me-!" 

"Easy, Uri. Breath! And, uhh... Consider showering, though I know I can't smell much better. I'm under strict orders by Tataru to make sure you eat something." A strained smile crossed her features before the haggard looking scholar finally let her go. "Here, you carry the tray, I'll follow you in and then we'll talk, alright? Alright."

* * *

A short while later, once they had partaken of the provided food and drink, Urianger was pouring aether into the wound in her leg to hasten the healing process as she answered what questions she could. How did she know what she knew? Her Echo had shown her. How did she know about the Echo? Her _Echo_ had shown her bits and pieces of conversations about it. Did she find what she was looking for in Garlemald? She hoped so, but only time would tell. Did she intend to aid the Scions? Something like that. Primals were going to kill the Source, which meant she had to do something about it anyway. Why did she call it the Source?

Because it _was_ , but any greater explanation than that would take an awful lot of time, and she could really use a bath, more food and then several hours in a nigh silent, dark room to catch up on some sleep before they opened that can of worms. What was her name? That one was easier. Priscilla Del'monte. How had she learned she had the Echo? What had triggered her Echo, and what did it let her see? 

She could see Emet-Selch as he snickered and lounged in mid-air, and did her best to ignore him as Urianger continued to bombard her with questions. It wasn't long before the door opened once more, and a familiar, blond woman stepped in. 

"I see we have a guest toda-" She paused, surprised by the way Priscilla had surged out of the folding chair and lunged to pull the woman into a rough hug. "I... To what do I owe...?"

"You glorious, crazy woman, don't you _ever_ tell me 'Pray, return to the Waking Sands'. -Ever-. Those words _terrify_ me. By the Twelve, I've missed you though." Priscilla paused, realizing what she had done before blinking and abruptly letting the other hyur go. "I, uhh..."

"Hath thou met before?"

"I-... No. Not really. I just... Echo. It showed me a bunch of stuff, and..." Sheepishly, the Warrior cleared her throat and awkwardly sat back down in her chair. "Sorry."

" _This_ is Minfillia?" The Ascian shifted to put his feet under him and folded his arms. "I remain unimpressed." 

"I was informed that we had one guest, not two. You are...?" Minfillia turned towards the Ascian, narrowing her eyes. 

"He's with me, is all that's important." Priscilla grimaced as she caught Urianger glancing between Minfillia and what, to his senses, was thin air. She didn't like the way he seemed to be adding things up in his mind. "You're the only one in this room besides me who can see him."

"Then he is..." The elezen narrowed his eyes, backing slowly away from where he believed Emet-Selch was. 

The Warrior winced, holding up her hands. "An Ascian, yeah. He's who I went to Garlemald for-"

" _Garlemald?_ Urianger, just what exactly is-"

"ENOUGH!" Priscilla threw her hands into the air, interrupting Minfillia. "I've been slowly dying as I was dragged across no fewer than four nations to get back here so I could explain things, I'm _still_ hungry, and smelly, and tired! None of you have the full story, not even the Ascian! Urianger, tell them whatever you want, but I'm breaking into your rooms, stealing some towels and going to take a _bath_. And then breaking into your rooms again and passing out. The Ascian's title is Emet-Selch, he's snarky at times and he's only going to whack you if you do something _stupid_. He's the first of his kind to have ever reached out to try and _help_ the Scions, instead of _kill_ them, so don't fuck this up for me." 

Dropping her hands, the Warrior shoved her way out of the room and limped off to make good on her words, leaving the others behind in stunned silence. 

* * *

Priscilla groaned as she sank into the steaming water. She had almost been worried that the still-healing wound in her leg would have made such a thing a particularly bad idea, but Urianger had almost finished healing it by the time Minfillia had entered the equation. Her head hurt, her leg hurt, her _everything_ hurt from the few days and nights she had constantly been in the saddle, regardless of the fact that most of that had been walked. It wasn't long before the heat of the water had her relaxing and starting to nod off.

A snap of fingers roused her, and she blinked up at the Ascian as he frowned down at her. "Mmn?"

"Considering the wealth of knowledge you have yet to divulge, I would kindly ask you to refrain from accidentally drowning yourself. I have mitigated what I could, barring the ability to interact with the elezen. It seems you have told him far less than myself."

"Mm, yeah. Didn't have time. Was sort've rushed considering I had to find you and all." Sitting up, the Warrior lifted her hands out of the water and scrubbed at her face, blinking owlishly once she was done. "... Water's getting cold. I should run another bath."

"What you should do, is perhaps actually focus on getting _clean._ Fret not over the temperature of the water." A claw was lowered down, and stirred through the water for a moment before steam started to rise from the bath once more. "Was I truly the first Ascian to extend an olive branch?"

"You were. Though, might've had something to do with the fact that every other Ascian to date that had come up against the Scions had died. Uhh... Lahabrea, Igeyorhm? And Nabriales." Stretching, Priscilla felt around for a bar of soap and slowly got to work. "I like to think you recognized me on some level, 'cause you kept making references to remembering things."

"Shameless, naked in a bath and all. Perhaps I did. All I have to go by is your as of yet incomplete recounting of a future time." Rotating in mid-air, Emet-Selch took to studying the ceiling once more as she snickered. 

"It's a hyur body. You've seen them before. As I recall it took a bit of convincing to get you to accept that a body was kind've important beyond the ways a shirt might be. Besides, I'm too tired to care, and pretty sure you spend more time looking at my soul than at the container it's in. Far more shameless, that, considering I can't do a damn thing to preserve my soul's modesty from prying eyes." 

"All accurate points." Turning once more, the Ascian cocked his head to the side and studied her, humming. "'Tis not even a particularly impressive body, at that."

"You don't like it? Then don't look at it. It's the only one I've got, and I'm kind've fond of it even if I don't have a giant rack like Moenbryda." Sticking her tongue out at him as her cheeks pinked slightly, Priscilla set the soap aside and focused on rinsing herself off for the time being. It wasn't long before she was reaching for some of the liquid soap, and she grimaced at the oil and grime that that had gathered in the water. "... Should draw another bath if only just to _rinse_ after this."

"It _does_ look disgusting, yes. One day, perhaps, Eorzean civilization will come to realize what a shower is." 

"Showers're nice and all, but a bath is best for relaxation." Sighing as she worked the soap through her hair, she glanced up and cleared her throat. "... Thanks, by the way. For getting me here. It can't have been pleasant, wearing a chicken fora vessel. Double thanks for not screwing him over. Triple thanks for fighting the bandits for me, and hunting down food while we traveled."

"Think of how many favours you will owe me once your story is done." Tutting, the Ascian folded his arms and looked away. "I expect you to continue your tale when you awake."

"I'll whistle to get your attention when I'm up. It's easy, right? Just put my lips together and blow." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm working under the theory that it takes about a day by chocobo to get through each zone, for example one day for western Thanalan, one day for central Thanalan, and one day for eastern Thanalan. I know it doesn't take that long in game, even using the in game days (it's actually about a forty minute mounted run (two hours, twentyish minutes at a walk) of in game time, not irl time, to get from Ul'dah to the waking sands by taking the roads) but I like to think the worlds a bit bigger than we see it. Plus they were avoiding Lahabread.


	7. Chapter 7

Rare was it that she dreamed. Rarer still that she realized it for what it was. When she found herself pacing the halls of Azys Lla, she had a brief moment of disorientation as she remembered both that she had once lived there and also had never actually seen the flying Primal prison in her life. It eased, however, until she settled at the railing and found Emet-Selch, dressed in his black robes, had joined her at the railing and had hummed thoughtfully as he looked out over the healed landscape of the Source once the shards had all been shuffled back together. 

"'Tis passing strange, seeing the world like this. Your senses were sharper during this time, provided this is in fact a memory and not a hallucination." 

"Odd thing to say for a dream version of yourself, Hades." The Warrior shifted to lean against his side, and sighed as he wrapped an arm around her. 

"Considering you have somehow managed to sleep for more than an entire day, I confess I found myself worried. Incomplete as you are, the journey severely taxed what little you have in the way of personal resources."

She blinked as the pieces fell into place and cleared her throat, torn between staying where she was and pulling away. "You're Emet-Selch who I went and got from Garlemald, aren't you. This mean you believe me, fully?"

"Not the one you had an amorous relationship with." The words were a confirmation, and she scrunched up her face as she tilted her head back, studying his expression as he spoke. "Dreams are, unfortunately, relatively easy for an imagination to fabricate. I will say, however, that while the jury is still out 'tis a startlingly accurate representation of Azys lla."

"'Course it is. I climbed all over this place, apparently." Grumbling, the Warrior huffed and dropped her gaze to study his hand at her waist. "So, wait, how'd you get into my dream?"

"There are many ways. Most of them simply require two individuals to share the same headspace." A thoughtful frown pulled at his features as he leaned out, watching the world. 

"Mhm." Priscilla nodded slowly, leaning with him and quirking a brow. "You're in my body aren't you."

Pale gold eyes snapped to her, and he straightened slightly. "Your knowledge has too high of a chance to be useful for me to carelessly watch you slip into a comatose state." 

She laughed at that, and shook her head. "More worried about the interactions between Hydaelyn's blessing and Zodiark's. It worked before, but I'm pretty sure you weren't tempered at the time. I wonder though, how long've I been out for you to feel the urge to check up on me like this?"

"A little more than a full day." There was a wariness to him as he studied her and after a moment frowned once more. "The elezen returned and attempted to rouse you. He failed, and so I stepped in. Literally, as it so happens. Most tend to be a little more upset when their body is stolen." 

"What're you gunna do, ruin my non-existent reputation? Go around killing the Scions? You don't need me for that, and they figured it out pretty quickly with Lahabrea and Thancred." A hand was lifted and waved lazily, before she looked back out at the scenery. "I offered once, in the event your vessels were all mangled or useless so that you didn't have to go and warp some poor farmer's body."

"It seems you have amalgamated these 'memories' and claimed them as your own, regardless of whether or not they hold the truth." The fingers against her hip drummed idly, and she glanced down to eye the tips of the claws. 

"I mean... Yeah, I thought maybe I should consider them like I do the echoes I get off other people, in that they're not me at all, but when I really thought about it I could see myself making all the choices I did. Sure, I wish I hadn't made some of them, but with what I seemed to have known at the time? Absolutely." 

The fingers stopped their pitter-patter pattern on her waist. "All of them, then?" 

"Well, I dunno if I'd have actually picked _Zenos_ for a regular sparring partner, but I stopped being able to stay dead somewhere along the line and -someone- had to keep him from killing everyone out of boredom."

"Touché."

* * *

"Thy journey hath taken a great toll on thy body." Urianger pressed a bowl of soup into her hands, and she grumbled as she realized it was by and large just a broth. 

"Oh c'mon. I didn't sleep properly for _maybe_ a week-"

"Whilist dealing with severe blood loss. Drink the broth, Priscilla." Emet-Selch rolled his eyes as she stuck her tongue out at him. "Oh, how _truly_ mature we are today."

"Keep this up and I'm going to call you the peanut gallery, floaty-boy." Sighing, the warrior leaned back against the headboard and started to sip at her soup. "One day, I have a dream that I'll eat _ham_ again, I swear. I didn't get stabbed in the gut, I got shot in the -leg-."

"And thusly barely consumed enough food on thy return to the Waking Sands to keep thyself alive, as best can be determined." The elezen barely spared the air that the Ascian presumably haunted before pushing himself up and making his way over to the kitchenette to start brewing some tea. 

"Yeah, 'cause _someone_ didn't answer his linkpearl when I kept asking where I could get supplies on Scion gil." Muttering under her breath, Priscilla took a deep breath and then chugged the broth. Setting the empty bowl aside, she blinked at the irritated look from the Ascian and resigned expression across Urianger's face. " _What_. I ate the soup." 

"Are you _always_ like this? Determined to comply in the most ridiculous ways possible? He's only concerned for the wellbeing of your vessel." 

"You're not wrong but c'mon, it's -broth-." Priscilla waved a hand once more, before sheepishly offering the elezen a smile. "He's agreeing with you, for what it's worth."

"'Tis worth little and less, provided thy continued resistance to basic beneficial procedures." 

"Bleh."

* * *

"Welcome to the Solar, Miss Del'monte was it?" Minfillia stood up from behind the desk as Priscilla followed the elezen in. Everyone was assembled, from Y'shtola to Yda and for a moment she stopped and stared at the faces she had missed. Papalymo, Moenbryda, and then settled her gaze back onto the leader of their merry little band. 

"Just Priscilla, honestly. Miss is a bit too formal for me. Thancred and I grew up in the same place after all." She glanced over at the white-haired hyur, before blinking at his blank stare. "Limsa Lominsa?"

"I haven't the faintest idea who you are." 

"Mildly distressing, but alright. What's Urianger told you so far?" She glanced towards the elezen, and cleared her throat awkwardly. 

"That thou claims to bear the Echo. Proof enough, given thy intangible company that Minfillia hath confirmed the existence of. That thou also possess unusual knowledge, much of which hath been determined to be truth while yet more eludes us. When thou mentioned the Battle of Carteneau did I take it upon myself to verify the full extent of thy claims, however none recall thy visage, mask or presence." Lifting one hand, Urianger tucked his fingers against his chin and frowned. "'Tis passing strange. Thine accounting hath been accurate beyond thy presence during these occurrences."

"Almost as if you aren't who you say you are." Thancred folded his arms, eyeing her as Emet-Selch drifted above him and studied her. 

"Or didn't exist." 

"Wait, what's _that_ supposed to mean." The Warrior eyed the Ascian, brows furrowing. 

"Exactly what it sounds like." Touching down nearby, the Architect leaned in to both tower over and peer down at her. "I have a theory, but I will wait until I have more information before I determine how accurate it might be."

"So helpful, Emet-Selch. _So_ helpful. Okay, so I remember, vaguely, that the first time I joined the Scions there was an issue with people remembering the Warrior of Light anyways, so maybe that's a factor? Louisoix, when he did his teleport-rebirth thing, it had an effect on that. Nobody remembered, not even me until my Echo started kicking my ass again." Leaning to glance at the plaque behind the desk, she felt somewhat reassured to find the top half of Tupsimati still there. 

"'Tis possible, but then why can they all remember each other?" The Ascian clasped his hands behind his back and turned, making his way over to the desk so that he could turn around and then lean against it. "Tethered to a vessel as I was at the time I rather missed the whole thing, although I _did_ try to warn them. I explicitly ordered that effort to cease."

"I don't understand. Tethered? Ordered?" Minfillia looked between Emet-Selch and the Warrior, frowning as the latter shrugged. 

"They were all scattered around the area at the shrines to the Twelve. I can only think maybe that distance was important somehow, in that they forgot some things but not others while I was at ground zero. I'm not going to bemoan the past though. How I got here isn't as important as what I can do now that I am, right? No sense thinking too hard about it." Clearing her throat, Priscilla looked around at the group and rubbed her hands together. "Alright. So all've you need reasons to trust me, right? Well, first off, even if you don't I can go and fight primals because their tempering won't work on me."

"It might. Your Mother's blessing appears to be quite the fragile thing. Any primal of sufficient strength would be able to overwrite such a thing with their own." The Ascian folded his arms idly as she stared at him, and quirked a brow in response to her frown. "I understand you are _limited_ by your lack of sense and senses, but surely you can tell even this much."

Priscilla's jaw worked for a moment as she mentally chewed on his words. 

"Anyone else feel like we're missing something?" Thancred scowled as he eyed her and then the empty air that Minfillia kept glancing at. 

"What I think, is that you continuously recall yourself possessing a greater power than you currently hold. And that if you fail to rectify this, you will simply end up dying, like so many others." A claw-laden glove was lifted so that Emet-Selch could study the way the light played along the metal facets woven into his outfit. "There is an alternative, you know. I could ensure the primal tempering you would allow you the free will I possess." 

"That's not a talk to have right now, because reasons that I'm sure you're smart enough to figure out. I grabbed what should have been the water crystal on my way out of Limsa Lominsa, but I double checked it this morning. It's just a lump of rock. I thought about it and I remember having to do things to make them work properly before." Frowning, the Warrior produced the grey crystal and hefted it a few times. "Like this one, I fought a goobbue in a cave by a rock before I found it the first time."

"Y'shtola, isn't that...?" Alphinaud frowned, looking towards the miqo'te who nodded. 

"The very aether crystal I was looking for and failed to find after someone stole my goggles." Teal eyes narrowed as Priscilla smiled sheepishly. "I would very much like to have them back."

"So I, uhh... I sort've got them fixed to work for me? And there's other sets lying around. Specifically in the storage room." Turning back to Minfillia and the Ascian, she held up the crystal. "Alright, so there's a hiccough in the plan. First, I'll have to figure out what's happening where and then try and play catch up to get to where I was..."

" _Why_. You have the ability to change what to you is the future, and yet you sound as though you intend to follow the path you have already taken." Metal tipped claws clicked against each other as the Architect continued to study his glove. 

"'Cause if I _don't_ then I'm pretty sure everything's going to change in ways I can't foresee. I'm _really_ bad at math, so calculated risks aren't my thing. I've already stepped way off the original path that led to actual happiness and everything working out, and I'd like to get back on it as best I can so everything doesn't go pear shaped."

* * *

After being proverbially grilled for most of the morning and afternoon with only a few minutes for lunch, when evening came and she was allowed to retreat to the rooms they had set aside for her Priscilla felt exhausted. Almost as much as she had when she had stolen Urianger's room for what had turned out to be a lot more than just a single night. It was a close thing. Still, when she had finally changed into the clean clothes (also provided for her, blessedly, regardless of how plain they were) she stretched out on the bed and looked around. The area was surprisingly Ascian free, and so she put her lips together and blew. 

It wasn't a very good whistle. More of a tongueless raspberry, really. But there was an ever so faint 'fweet' tone to it, and she grimaced and practiced a few more times before a particularly annoyed sigh interrupted her. 

"I _thought_ you said you knew how to whistle."

"Seems there's a bit more to it than just steps one and two." Shifting, the Warrior scooted around on the bed to put her back to the headboard and looked over at where Emet-Selch drifted, idly playing with his mask. "We need to have a _conversation_ that you're not really going to like."

"About turning you towards the grace of Zodiark?"

"Yeeeah, that's not... going to happen. Look, I-"

A hand was waved casually, dismissively at her as the Ascian flit down and seemed to settle on the foot of the bed. "It doesn't take an incredible intellectual to know that _you_ would find the idea abhorrent. What surprised -me- is that Hydaelyn tempered you at all. Although, I do suppose you had little choice in the matter. I told Elidibus I would make the attempt, however. Think nothing of it. provided you refrain from insulting my God, I will do likewise."

"I can agree to that. I met him, you know. Sort of. Zodiark, that is. We went around to the moons after your tempering was removed, collected the souls from them so that they could go back into the lifestream and get reborn, clean and free." Priscilla shifted to prop her elbows up on the headboard behind her, stretching her back as she did. "I'm... Trying to be a bit careful about what I say about those parts. It's one thing for you to have made those choices _then_. It's another to be tempered and told you sort of worked counter to what you thought you should have."

"As these are choices I have yet to _make_ , it doesn't truly have any meaning beyond a possibility. Although, 'tis somewhat disturbing to learn that _Hydaelyn_ won." A grimace pulled at his features as he twisted and brought a knee up to rest on the edge of the bed. "Would you continue your tale? Or are you all 'talked' out for the day." 

"Oh, I can go on. There's not a whole lot left, anyways. Where'd I leave off?" 

"I believe I had just introduced myself to your little group on the First."

It was Priscilla's turn to grimace, but she nodded and resumed her story.


	8. Chapter 8

"You did _what_."

"Before you get too angry! You had the 'this is why this is bad you idiot' talk with me, and made sure I understood why it was a stupid thing to do." Priscilla winced at the utter lack of an expression that Emet-Selch had turned her way. On one hand, it meant he was _trying._ On the other it meant he was biting back any number of scathing words as he slowly took a deep breath, and then let it out. "I'm... I'm not the _smartest_ , which is why you sat me down and took the time to point out that it was a type of -mutilation-. Like getting irritated with Thancred and deciding he doesn't need a kidney and one of his legs." 

"And what, pray tell, happened to the tempered aether." The Ascian sounded bitter, for all that he was aiming for neutral, and lifted both hands to rub his temples. "What did you _do_ with it."

"I, uhh... It got sucked into white auracite. You told me to destroy it." The Warrior tapped her fingers together, giving the Architect a somewhat pained smile. "You didn't really... Say anything about it after that, beyond to check to make sure it was gone. And-and later, I sundered that piece of you -out- of a mass of tempering, and gave that back to you. I only did it in emergencies, when I didn't really have another option."

Emet-Selch scoffed, pushing himself up and preparing to go. "'Tis good to _know_ , then, how exactly you plan to -sever- me from my God. Literally, in thi-"

"You _wanted_ to die. I wanted you to _live_." Priscilla tried another tactic. If being apologetic wasn't going to work... "If a limb turns to gangrene, you cut it off. You wanted me to kill you, because then you wouldn't be so torn from fighting yourself all the time. You were -exhausted-. You didn't want to DO this any more. And because of you, I couldn't do it any more -without- you." 

The Ascian hesitated only the barest of seconds, before vanishing into a rift.

* * *

To say that the Warrior moped would be an understatement. She answered questions, certainly, over the course of three days but didn't seek anyone out. Her free time in the evenings was spent grooming Kweh, climbing buildings and trying to figure out something resembling a timeline as she worked to keep her mind off of Emet-Selch's absence. She even tried to whistle, for all the good that it did. No response. Not even the flicker of a mote of darkness. 

She remembered that Kweh had only just recently become a fully fledged riding bird around the time she had fought Ifrit. Two(ish) months, roughly a week ago, left her with a vague idea of when everything would hopefully click into place. She needed to get down to Summerford Farms. Possibly with specifically Y'shtola. 

"What do _you_ think, Kweh? Things are already so different. Do you think it really matters, or if it's already just too late?" Brushing along the feathers with one hand, she sighed as the bird warked and crooned conversationally before eating the dead fish out of her other hand. After it was gulped down, he stuck his beak against one of her pockets and sniffed, giving her an expectant look. 

"Yeah, that's about what I thought you'd say." A grimace scrunched her features before she sighed and leaned to rest her forehead against the chocobo's side. "Great talk. Let's do this again sometime."

"Thou speaketh to thy feathered friend frequently." Urianger's voice nearly startled her out of her skin, and she had spun around to partially draw one of her daggers before slumping back against the curious Kweh. 

"Don't _do_ that." Wheezing slightly, Priscilla pushed the dagger the rest of the way down into it's sheath, and straightened. "Twelve, I forget sometimes how quietly you can move."

"My apologies." The elezen inclined his head, before frowning slightly at her. "'Tis talk that thou tend towards a sour mood lately, and that the Ascian hath seemingly disappeared. Given thy apparent fondness for him, it appears to be a case of cause and effect."

"I've been answering your guys's questions for days now, and it doesn't look like you're going to run out've them any time soon. Just a bit worn out, really." A wan smile tugged the corners of her mouth upwards, and for a moment she wondered at how Elidibus had seemingly been able to fake smiles for millennia. "'Course, you don't believe that."

Urianger inclined his head, lips tugging into a small smile of his own. "Thy phrasing indicates a familiarity beyond what thou hath admitted to collecting from thy Echo."

"Trust you'd see through it. Tell me what you think, then." Turning to resume grooming the chocobo, the Warrior tilted her head and watched his reflection in the window and the shadow on the wall. "You seem like you've got yourself a theory, after all."

"There are a handful." The admittance came without the amusement she had hoped it would have, but she kept her head down as he continued. "That thou art delusional is common. However, thy knowledge of the history of Yda, let alone the heart of Moenbryda, must have come from somewhere. Ergo, thy truth about the Echo is all but assured."

"Not gunna lie, I thought I was delusional at the start too." 

"Hmm. Another theory is as follows. Thou speaketh what is thy believed truth, but an abridged and heavily edited version. Of course, thy admittance of a fondness of drink could be at fault, and yet thy bearing is not that of a drunkard. In fact, beyond the singular drink that thou failed to finish, none hath born witness to this drunken tendency."

Priscilla grimaced. Half of why the trip had been so hard had been the lingering cravings for the oblivion that alcohol could give her. Denying those urges had been reflexive, not even a conscious thought on her part, the memory of a practiced distancing of an addiction. "Fair point. Go on."

"Which doth bring us to another. That thy Echo, while factually and indisputably a part of you, works differently than thy words imply. Of the past, thou hath shown an excess of knowledge. Yet, 'tis spoken of as if from a greater distance than thou intends. Something about thy words and bearing indicates that such is particularly old knowledge, to you. It implies an excess of -time-." 

"Past is the past, no matter how little or long ago it was." Turning slightly, she gave him an exasperated look that swiftly vanished as he frowned at her. 

"'Tis my belief that thou possess the power of Prophecy, but are as of yet unpracticed at translating such things. In thine attempts to be vague about the thoughts of the plans of the Ascians, there are certain points at which thy words sound unshakably certain. They 'can' be saved, because thou hath seen such. Y'shtola hath been warned of how dangerous playing with ancient aetheric methods, yet only insofar as being careful with them. Moenbryda is given looks of sadness, because thou hath seen her demise. Minfillia becomes lost to us sometime in the future, as noted by thy reaction to her presence. T'was not that of a good friend meeting another, but that of a fallen comrade come to life."

The Warrior stared at him, before sighing and turning back to the bird. "It doesn't matter. Whatever I've seen, it's not a self-fulfilling one."

"Thy will is to attempt such alone?"

"I think I'm going to have to. Things are already a bit different than what I've seen. Not a whole lot of translation needed for this one. It's pretty direct. Can I ask you a favour, though?" Lifting both hands, she took Kweh's face between her hands and rubbed gently at the fluffenchops the bird was developing. 

"Any can ask. 'Tis only time and truth that can tell the result."

"Let me know if you get word of any primals getting made? It's kind've important. I'm armed with Hydaelyn's Blessing, so I've got a better chance than most to take something like that down, and it'd save a lot've lives."

* * *

Staring down at the dead goobbue, Priscilla made a face. The crystal in her other hand remained inert, essentially dead as she tucked it away and then studied the rock. There had to be a clue around there _somewhere_. Though, maybe the clue was that just going out and killing something didn't make someone a 'hero'. 

Sitting down and putting her back to the runed rock, she closed her eyes and thought about it. Last time, the first time, she had been... Helping Summerford Farms. Which she had just spent the last day at, running errands and fixing problems. Then, word had reached her about this place being... Dangerous? Had it been that folk were disappearing? Something _bad_ , and because it paid well she went to look into it. She hadn't cared about living or dying at that time. Y'shtola had been present too. 

Was it because she was expecting it as a reward? Some people believed that being a hero meant working for free, though she had always had more of a mercenary approach to it. Even if it was just something small and the promise of a favour later, so that couldn't have been it. She'd also never _felt_ like a hero, and hated being called it. Maybe it was a matter of being known. A heroic reputation. Though, really, when she thought about Ardbert and the Warriors of Light from the First, it made things a little muddier. Compared to them, she'd never _been_ particularly heroic. 

No. Heroic was the wrong word. She'd just wanted to help, and wanted to keep herself afloat. 

She realized then, with a laugh, what exactly was different. She wasn't trying to -help-. She was madly scrambling for power. Producing the crystal, Priscilla turned it over in her hands and set it down beside her before pushing herself to her feet. 

Overthinking things as always. Stretching, she left the crystal behind and meandered towards the entrance of the cave before clicking her tongue to call Kweh over to her side. Raking her fingers back through his feathers, the Warrior took a deep breath. 

"Alright. Nothing for it then. Let's go and see what we can do, yeah?"


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every fresh comment I read makes me want to write more.
> 
> _I hunger_

A spirited wanderer walked down the road of Three-malm Bend, heading north towards the Foremast. Accompanied by a midnight blue chocobo, they caught sight of one of the many problems that constantly troubled the coast, namely the wespe's and their constant attacks on the guards there. Careful not to press too far into the swarm, they both danced along the edges as they distracted them in ones and twos, withdrew and then returned once their foes were dead. They couldn't completely take care of the problem, but they certainly lightened the load and allowed the guard the chance to rotate out their members so that those who were badly stung with those who were a bit healthier. 

From there, the masked figure continued north to Swiftperch. A massive Roseling, terrorizing people along the road, was dispatched and one of the smaller, lesser buds mysteriously made it's way behind the ear of one of the children, who giggled and said she had promised to keep it a -secret-. Adults, parental or otherwise, still eventually got the truth out of her. A fancy stranger with a black mask and a giant black bird had given it to her!w

Gertrude, the gluttonous dodo who had bitten one of the stable boys at Swiftperch turned up next. Dead, missing a leg and a wing, but everyone was relieved that the menace was no longer a threat. Shortly after, the giant crab that had made a nuisance of itself at the Brewer's Beacon was found just outside of the gates. Missing a few limbs, but still. Dead. One less hazard in the immediate area. Some of the guards could have sworn they had caught sight of a dark blue chocobo helping to drag it to the outpost. 

Goblins, after having raided a caravan just north of Aleport, limped to the port town and returned the stolen goods. The spectacle drew a crowd, before someone shouting asked what waas stopping them all from trading for what they needed. Only the sharpest of eyes caught the black masked figure that had shouted it as they disappeared across a roof. 

Later, during one of the many raids on Swiftperch an unidentified ally popped up from the underbrush wearing a freshly dyed red mask. Dagger in each hand, they made relatively short work of the invading monsters before an unnatural storm took the area. It settled unusually quickly as a dark blue chocobo bolted out with a rider clinging low and tight to it's back. Last seen heading north, the guards gossiped as they were wont to do that some absolute mad lad was out there in the world, doing the Twelve's work. 

Civilians started to share the same rumours, but they started when a number of aurochs were driven from where they were crowding the road and preventing travel. A few were killed, and as the dust settled the masked figure had meandered over to one of the stunned farmers simply trying to get their wares through the area to remind them that the meat would spoil eventually, so they might as well avail themselves of it and spread the word that there was extra. Any attempts to ask who they were was met with a laugh and a wave before they were up on the back of a bird who's midnight blue feathers gleamed like those of a raven as they ran off. 

Memeroon's and Jijiroon's Trading Posts. Camp Overlook. Camp Bronze Lake. Wineport. Brayflox's Longstop. The docks of Raincatcher Gully. _Costa del Sol_. Rumours and legends of this individual and their mount spread. Not always wearing the same clothes, but the chocobo and the red mask were constants. Staples of the story. 

It frustrated and amused Emet-Selch to no end. She _knew_ what a red mask implied. When she had knocked out and stolen the crystal from the Ascian who had encountered her at Swiftperch, it had proven that she knew how to remove them from people. What she _did_ with it, was almost insulting. Half-buried in the sand of Costa del Sol with a drink umbrella acting as it's shade in one of the commonly sunniest and brightest places in La Noscea. One of Lahabrea's minions had only recently gone to dig it up. 

The Speaker himself had many things to say, but without the full picture every word that came out of his mouth made the Architect want to laugh. Notably, that whoever this red masked figure was, they were _playing_ with them. He must have failed to keep all of it out of his voice when he remarked that whomever it was, they certainly seemed to know what they were doing. 

"Is it because _you_ told them, then?" The Speaker stormed over, aether roiling with agitation. Lifting a hand, the Architect idly tucked it against Lahabrea's chest and marveled at how, with so little gravity on the moon, he was rather easily able to push himself back and away from the other Paragon. "You, who were so adamant that after your time in Garlemald, you simply would just _have_ to sleep? You, who crossed paths with Hydaelyn's latest -chosen-?"

"-Please-, I have told them _nothing_ of your plans. They did not learn of the Ascians from -me-. 'Tis not _my_ fault that your incompetence makes you as easy to see through as a pane of glass. I _could_ have learned of their plans and guided them along another path, but Elidibus in his infinite wisdom deemed my 'involvement' with them to be ill advised." Both black robed, red masked Ascians turned to look towards their white robed counterpart, who sighed slightly as he was gestured to. "I firmly believe that it will only get worse, provided I am not allowed to interfere."

"You are too easily swayed by her words. Would that you would not be tempted to begin working against our Lord, but you have never been able to swear that you will not aid her in some way." The Emissary slowly shook his head. "I would have your insights, however. How do you believe that things will progress?"

"She has cleared most of your plots and dangers of La Noscea. What else is a hero to do, but to seek new and more perilous pastures? Thanalan and Gridania are next, at which point most of our Speaker's work will have been uprooted. Lahabrea could throw all of his forces at her, but it would avail him little and less. Who could be threatened to stop her advances? The _bird?_ No discernible family, no visible friends, who is able to remove a dark crystal from a possessed mortal and thus free any who are sent after her." Turning in the air, Emet-Selch tisked and shook his head. "For anyone less than a Paragon, possessing her is not a possibility either. With Hydaelyns Blessing, it would be akin to a moth attempting to smother an open flame."

"Then the course is plain. I kill her." The Speaker folded his arms and smirked at the glare the Architect aimed at him. "Struck a nerve, have I? This dispute is one in which you consistently fail to see reason. No matter how many times you watch her die, you yet remain attached."

"Mo-"

"Enough. You are Paragons, both of you." The Emissary cut between the two other Unsundered as Emet-Selch rounded on the Speaker. "Lahabrea, continue your work. Apply pressure to the beast tribes, and they will summon their primals. The Architect has built a foundation for you to utilize with the Heart of Sabik. Do not waste this opportunity, and recall that all we must do, we do for our Lord. Go."

The Speaker stared at Emet-Selch for another long moment, before vanishing into a rift. Silence reigned for perhaps a second, before the Architect folded his arms. 

"'Tis almost disheartening to see how the more some things change, the more they stay the same."

"Ever have you quarreled with your brother in arms." The white robed Ascian turned to study his black garbed counterpart, and slowly shook his head. "Specifically where that one is concerned, as well. He is right to be skeptical of your ability to stay true to the path when involved with them."

"Perhaps there is a good reason for that." Sounding thoughtful, Emet-Selch hummed and unfolded his arms, letting his hands rest at his sides. "If I told you that I could convince her to complete the Ardor at the cost of Zodiark, what would you say."

"I would question your sanity and certainty in this matter, as well as your methods. For our Lord to be part of the price when He is the reason is blasphemous."

"Is it? My goal has ever been to bring back our loved ones. Our Lord has ever been a means to an end, in that regard. An act of desperation that then _divided_ the very soul of our people-" Hades flinched slightly at the aether that prickled through the space between them, falling silent against his will at the quiet 'Enough.' that the Emissary breathed into the void. 

"I can see that during the brief time the two of you spent in contact has already poisoned your mind. After the long, exhausting years, you must certainly be tired. You are dismissed." 

Emet-Selch narrowed his eyes, and opened his mouth.

* * *

As Kweh reared back in surprise, Priscilla was almost thrown from the saddle. Almost, because instead of tumbling into a tangled heap of limbs she tucked and rolled to instead dive to the side. Coming up with a dagger in hand, she blinked at the grey feathered bird that plopped down in front of the chocobo. Kweh nudged it a few times before the beak opened, and the shoebill was only barely spared the indignity of being pecked to see if he was edible or not by the Warrior hauling on the reins. After the portal had closed, it fluffed it's feathers and then turned an agitated glare towards her. 

"Tell me the rest of the story. I need to know how it ends."

"Hello t'you too, Emet-Selch. Colour me surprised, after the first week I thought you just weren't coming back." Priscilla smiled slightly, before settling into a crouch. "Look, about the-"

"Those specific possible actions in a past future that has yet to come to pass are of little import at this time. The Ardor. How do you complete it. _Why_ do you complete it. What happens to Hydaelyn and Zodiark?"

"Easy, easy. That's... None of those are questions that I can just answer with a few words. It's almost lunch, let's get off the road and I'll see what I can do, yeah?" Gesturing off to the side, she heaved a sigh as the Ascian clicked his beak and then strutted off in the direction indicated. It didn't take long for them to find a somewhat secluded spot a little ways up from the beach. Kweh ambled about, finding, killing and eating small crabs as Priscilla pulled out some of her travel rations and offered some out to the shoebill. It was declined with a shake of the grey feathered head. 

"There is little time left. Answer what you can."

"I'll just have to hope then that you'll let me know what's going on then." Frowning, the Warrior stretched out her legs and thought for a moment. "The Ardor is completed by using aetherite systems that then sort of pulled everything back together. The Ascians were a really big help in keeping people safe, using a variety of ways. Some watched for people who might be in danger and pulled them out of the way, others floated swaths of land with cities and villages on them to get them out of the way. We packed a whole bunch've folk into Azys lla and the Dravanian floating islands. With the Dragon's blessings, of course. They helped a -ton-."

"And the why?"

"'Cause it's what you wanted. My only issue with it's ever been that a whole bunch of people get killed every time you guys caused a calamity. Once we'd figured out a way to do it without mass death, it all worked out."

Emet-Selch mulled that over for a moment, clicking his beak. "... What of Hydaelyn and Zodiark?" 

"Hydaelyn got convinced to stop fighting you, but only on the condition that Zodiark essentially, uhh... Yeah. So funny story, that." The Warrior grimaced. "I cut the souls out've him, and they went through Hydaelyn and into the Lifestream. It was a sort've compromise between the two of us, because then they'd be reborn properly and with the Shards shuffled into the Source it was only going to take a few generations at best for it to happen and they'd regain their long lifespan and everything. We both realized, through a bit of trial and error, that when someone comes back they're not quite... -Them-. But also that if you look around, you can already -see- the souls of the people who've gone. They're still mostly them. They just don't remember. Which, yes, sucks but it was one of the steps towards making us all no longer the broken half-men you see us all as."

"Is there, at -any- point, a time where you were given the option to mutilate a soul and decided _against_ it?" 

Priscilla looked down at her rations, and started packing them away. "... Technically, yes. But you don't understand. We were working with what we had, and I worked as hard as I could to make sure I didn't cause any damage that couldn't be recovered from. You helped with that. The mask you made me, it-"

"-Let you see aether, yes. Considering your proclivity for _cutting_ souls, it must have been a prudent choice to limit the ramifications of your actions. If you -must- do a thing, then at the least I could mitigate the chances that you would fail catastrophically." Heaving a sigh, the Ascian covered his beak with one wing and slowly shook his head. "Now then. Are you capable of doing this in your current state?"

"I don't... Think so. I _know_ how. But my Blessing, buffered with six crystals of light and the aether of a whole bunch of sin eaters was where the power came from. I don't have any of that." Grimacing, the Warrior finished packing the food away and settled her hands on her lap, crossing her legs as she did. "I don't have the oomph."

"No luck with regards to the first crystal, then?"

"None. But I think I know why. I wasn't being heroic. I was doing it for the wrong reasons." Leaning forward, she started to idly sketch in the dirt. "I wasn't doing it to help people. I was doing it to help -me-. Which isn't very heroic. Sort of more villainish, really."

"And if you had this, as you say 'oomph'. Do you feel you might be able to then?" His words drew her from the rough figure of the goobbue, and she frowned at him. "-Well-?"

"I mean... It's possible? For someone who stormed off because I admitted to hacking your Tempering out've you, you seem awfully interested in this. What happened?"

The shoebill was silent for a moment, studying her before clicking his beak. "I told Elidibus that Zodiark demanded too high of a price for something we were not fully certain He was capable of doing, and every word _burned_ in the way that something which is both a truth and a falsehood tends to."

"That's... Are you... In the Crystarium, it took _months_ to be able to get you to even say a word bad about Him. Are you alright?"

"It was _you_." The beak snapped towards her, clicking angrily. "Elidibus told me that you were the price. Your very soul. As it has ever been, the cost of my compliance has been _your_ freedom of choice and yet when Lahabrea posed the idea of killing you, the Vaunted Emissary did _nothing_. You, who only ever wished that neither Primal had ever even been a concept, who wanted nothing to do with either of them."

Leaning back, the Warrior opened her mouth to say something only for Emet-Selch to strut closer and press his wings against either side of her face, forehead settling against her own. "I am _sick_ of it. I should have left with you. If a new scar or two is the price I pay to be able to begin to right the mistakes of the past, then so be it. Better a temporary pain than this _torment_ of being forced to stand aside. But I _must_ be certain. If you are empowered, can you do this thing or -not-."

Taking a deep breath, Priscilla let it out slowly and nodded. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Emet-Selch, pulls up in the Regalia  
> "Hop in, Bitch. We're going Ascian-thwarting."


	10. Chapter 10

"How long until the clones are done... I dunno. Growing? I guess? Y'know I never actually really learned anything about that aspect other than the fact it was something you could just... -Make-." Priscilla glanced down at the shoebill perched essentially on her lap as Kweh plodded along. They had recently disembarked in Vesper Bay, and the Warrior rather deliberately passed by the Waking Sands. 

"Generally speaking? With Allagan technology a few months. With the level of technology Garlemald has achieved... Closer to six or seven. However, provided they have at least passed out of the infant stage and are properly physically developed 'tis a simple matter to adjust a vessel." Irritably, Emet-Selch resisted the urge to flare his wings to keep his balance as he adjusted his taloned grip on the saddle between her thighs. "Oh for the love of... One would think being born as a giant flightless _bird_ your chocobo would be able to run somewhat smoother."

"I think he's still learning coordination. It makes a bit more sense to me, y'know, that you were able to move so easily wearing him though." One arm came around to help secure the bird, hugging the shoebill against her stomach as Kweh went from road to shallow water. The transition drew a scoff from the Architect as he tucked his head over her forearm and eyed the walls of the canyon they were passing through. 

"Hmph. 'Tis almost as if you -doubted- I knew what I was doing." Beak clicking quietly as they entered the tunnel that ramped upwards, Emet-Selch shook his head. "On the topic of knowing what you're doing, you _do_ have a plan, do you not?"

"Look, plans and me don't really have the best relationship. 'Sides, nobody can say you're doing it wrong if nobody knows what the hells you're doing." A grin was flashed down at him, invisible behind the red mask that covered her face. "I _do_ know that primals are on the horizon, though. Which means just figuring out which one gets summoned first." 

* * *

Turned out, it was Ifrit. Urianger contacted her by the linkpearl, and informed her of the efforts being arranged to combat the primal and it's thralls. She made it clear that she didn't expect Hades to help her, considering his position as an Ascian and citing how he by and large had left her to her own devices during the hunt for the sin eaters. He seemed mildly surprised, but admitted that there were reasons he couldn't directly speak of that were the cause of such distance.

Which left her, and Kweh. 

Really, just her. Emet-Selch had sighed and mentioned that he could _possibly_ find the wiggle room within whatever rules bound him to make sure the bird didn't run in and get flame broiled. She took what she could get, and and prayed her Blessing was strong enough. 

The hard part was trying to decide route to take. Ambush? Capture, to be brought before Ifrit and then attempt to strike? The Amalj'aa hadn't stepped in last time, but she had also had a few other unlucky souls with her who all fought for their survival. Some even succeeded. 

But this time was not last time. She slipped along rocks and ledges, making her way to the bowl of embers that the primal lounged in. There weren't any cliffs she could easily jump onto it's back from, no vantage point from which to strike. The only way she could see getting a shot in at Ifrit before it could react would be to circle around and-

/ _I smell thee, little insect. I sense thy horrid glow._ /

So much for that. Priscilla broke into a run, watching the way the primal's head came up and followed her progress even as he pushed himself the rest of the way to his feet. 

/ _I was told of thy coming._ / Burned black skin stretched and pulled back, revealing the glowing red maw as his tail lashed. / _Thou, who belongs to another, right down to the essence of thy soul. One of the godless blessed's number. Thine existence is not to be suffered./_

Orange flashed between Ifrit's teeth, before a gout of flame licked out towards the Warrior. Not for the first time, she wished she had the speed she recalled, and simply dove into a roll to avoid the claws that raked across. The sound of tearing fabric and a brief feeling of heat along her shoulder told the tale of a near miss, and as she came up she pivoted to charge towards the primal. 

He had a greater reach than her. He had a breath weapon. Both options meant remaining at anything resembling a ranged distance was ill advised, which meant getting under him might be the trick she needed. The first dagger caught against the primal's hide and tore in, but the heat that flashed through the leather-wrapped grip still almost scorched her through her glove. 

Ifrit backtracked, trying to bring his claws and maw to bear, but she dipped and ducked around his feet until he took to stomping around. The tail was what caught her, as he spun and she zigged where she should have zagged. Launched across the ground, she tumbled to a halt and groaned, feeling the way her ribs protested. 

She didn't look forward to the first time her Echo brought her back and knocked her out for a week. She _really_ didn't. Which meant a perfect record of avoiding any and every attack he had left to throw at her. Partially rolling, the Warrior pushed herself up and grimaced. 

"Told you things, did they. Did they tell you they intend to steal your aether and stuff it into a weapon they're building? You, Garuda and Titan. Gods, of other beast tribes." Eyeing the primal warily, she turned and broke into a run as Ifrit charged across the clearing, slamming into the rocks. A quick glance around gave her hope, and she ignored the burning in her chest as best she could as she hustled around to another wall. "We can work together and stop all this from happening!" 

/ _Thy words are as air - naught before the roar of the inferno!_ / Fire licked out towards her, and she dove and tucked into a roll with a pained hiss as her hair caught. A quick moment was spent trying to pat out the flame as she backed up against another cliff as Ifrit stormed over. The first swipe of the claws was narrowly ducked under as Priscilla dropped to the ground before she turned and scrambled back to her feet to leap over the second. A bite was fended off with a surprised hiss as her hands fumbled her canteen off of her belt and, uncapped, was thrown into the incoming jaws. 

Water sizzled and steamed as she caught sight of an ornate red crystal that had sprouted from the ground. Daggers in hand once more, she sped towards it and hacked as if every stroke was earning her cash until she heard the frustrated roar of the primal. She blinked, spinning in time to catch sight of him bearing down on her with all the momentum he could muster from his charge across the clearing, and the pain that exploded through her was a prelude to a second impact, a faint crunch and darkness.

* * *

He didn't help her defeat the primal. Emet-Selch could honestly say, straight faced, that he had personally done absolutely _nothing_ to aid the Warrior. Watched, yes. _Worried_ , while difficult to admit, was also a -possible- truth. Mentioned to her the somewhat familiar aether of the white-haired hyur lingered nearby, certainly _not_. 

Which was why he felt as though he was, only _just_ , maintaining his balance. He couldn't turn against Zodiark, the very thought was a foreign concept that he couldn't help but recoil from. Even talking about a possible method of removal of his tempering had set his aether roiling uncomfortably. Working against other _followers_ was something they all did. Considering aiding someone who had admitted that the one way she knew 'for sure' how to set everything to some semblance of how it had been in the past, however, was not. Not truly. The Ascians may not have always put up a united front, but they certainly all worked towards the same goals. 

Rejoin the Shards to the Source to revive Zodiark. Weaken Hydaelyn, and kill Her for Her transgressions and assault on their Lord. Cultivate the Star until they had the aether required to bring back the souls of their loved ones. Recover their civilization, for the glory of Zodiark. Resume their duties as guardians and wardens of their Star, to protect it from the Doom. Their Lord could and would save them from the screaming terror that had once sickened their world. If it happened again, they _had_ to have Zodiark at the ready to thwart such. 

_But..._

-But-. 

Emet-Selch possessed a unique relationship with the Lifestream, and had long been aware of the fact that ~~the souls that continuously died in every calamity were the fractured pieces of his people~~ only old souls were being recycled, and that there had not been a new soul since the Sundering. The Architect was ~~exhausted~~ excited by the prospect of seeing their great work completed before the end of the decade. Hades, robust as his soul was, ~~missed his wife, missed one of the few who made his heart beat, who had promised she would always come **back** to him~~ had felt the way the shape of his soul had subtly changed over the millennia until he craved the oblivion of sleep or blinders of a vessel with the constant distractions of the pleasures of the flesh and the mind. 

He served Zodiark, but she loved the memory of him, just as he loved the memory of her. And, arduous as the method might have been, had sought him out. Specifically. Because she _missed_ him, knowing full well that at best he would be able to give her advice and at worst they would have to fight. She didn't remember much, but that she did _at all_ was enough to give him hope. 

It was the cruelest thing. 

Her aether abruptly scattered, and he stood very, _very_ still with the practice of countless thousands of her deaths witnessed under his belt as he remained focused on the tiny, singular point of her Blessing. It caught at her dispersing aether, before drawing it back in. Slowly, piece by piece, things were starting to be put back into their proper place as he felt himself leaning forward. Her soul had _never_ done that before, but forewarned and armed with the knowledge of the type of immortality she had claimed to once possess, stifled his alarm. 

It would take a while. She might even be rescued before the process completed and everything went back to the way it 'should' have been. Relief warmed him from the inside out, thawing him from where he stood frozen, before he looked down at where Kweh was pecking at rocks in a bid to try and find an edible insect. 

He couldn't help _her_. But he could damn well be there when she woke up and confirm that her prized chocobo was alive and well tended to. 

It would have to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter brought to you by:  
> Nightmares. They're everywhere.  
> Saddle up, bucko's.  
> (Don't mind the typos. I wrote this in an hour and a half when really I thought to myself that I'd just sleep like a normal person when I got home and was proven wrong.)


	11. Chapter 11

There were many places Priscilla had woken up without remembering the 'how' of how she had gotten there. Only that she _had_. Be it carried by another, shifted by the tides or pure accident, waking in a place that did -not- match the last thing she remembered wasn't something that was going to make her panic. 

There was a pattern to it. Hydaelyn had the right of it when She bid people to _Hear, Feel, Think._ The first thing the Warrior did was -listen-, and from that she picked up the heavily muffled, faint sounds of a commotion. When it didn't cease, and simply continued without the presumable building she was in shaking, Priscilla took a moment to take stock of her situation. There was a faint ache in her ribs, but otherwise her fingers and toes responded well enough. 

When she cracked her eyes open, she was met with the familiar view of one of rooms in the Quicksand. A familiar view, for all that Priscilla had preferred the stars. Moving to push herself up, the Warrior grimaced only to abruptly halt at the voice that tutted out of nowhere. Aether coiled around her, pulling her back down before she tilted her head to peer around. 

_**< <Do you -truly- intend to ruin the hard work put into digging your ribs our of your lungs so early into the healing process?>>** _

"I've had worse. I've been out for, what, a week? Week and a half?" Both hands came up to settle atop the film of aether that had settled across her shoulders, and ever so faintly she could make out the shape of fingers thicker than her wrists and the hardened caps that covered them like claws. "... Something happen? Last I checked you were wearing a shoebill."

**_< <As much as it pains me to admit such, wearing such a vessel is awfully stifling. 'Tis akin to having size thirteen feet and wearing size two shoes. A feat that, while it ought to be impossible, is utterly painful to endure and there is only so much to distract the mind from such sensations.>>_ **

"I've seen the height Amaurotine were supposed to be. Compacting all of that down into something the size of one of the -hands-... Yeah, I can see it. You alright though?" The fingers were rapidly solidifying under her hands, and a slight pressure against her back was all the warning she had before Priscilla heard the bed creak. A clawed arm bloomed out of the darkness, smushed against the wall and curling to brace as the Ascian underneath her shifted and wiggled slightly to get comfortable. Turning enough that she could peer up at the masked face, the Warrior quirked a brow. "I'm -pretty- sure the bed's doing absolutely nothing for you except digging into your back. As much as I'd hate to ever suggest the vaunted Founding Father of Garlemald ever lay on the -floor-, it might be a bit more comfortable."

 **_< <Alas, the price of being three lengths of the bed tall, and two and a half widths.>>_ **

Even without the ability to properly form expressions, his disgruntlement was plain and she snickered quietly as he scooted over. Both of his smaller hands kept her tucked against his chest, and she folded her arms over his fingers as he shifted one of them to splay across her torso. "Two sets of arms-does- tend to mean pretty big shoulders. I gotta ask again though, did something happen? You usually only looked like this when you felt, I dunno. Unsettled. Defensive. Like you were expecting to have to fight for your life."

**_< <... I suppose saying that I am testing the truth of your words on your perceived past would not be enough of an answer.>>_ **

"I'm not gunna pry? And I'm -loads- weaker than I should be, so I probably couldn't take a sundered Ascian in a fair fight. But if there's anything I can do..."

Emet-Selch remained silent for a long moment, clawed fingers shifting minutely before the massive torso at her back expanded to contain the enormous breath he took and then contracted as he slowly let it out. 

**_< <You mentioned Aileth. How much do you know, about her. About what happened.>>_ **

"Ah." The Warrior grimaced. "You expect them to try and kill me, or you, because they think you've strayed and it's my fault."

 **_< <-I- think I have strayed.>>_ **

The words were irritable and coupled with a slight tightening of his grasp. She wheezed quietly at the pressure on her ribs, before he jerked and abruptly withdrew his hands. Clearing her throat, Priscilla reached to try and snag one by the thumb and pull it back down. "Well, let's look at it logically, right? You're better at that than I am. What've you -done-, exactly, that goes against Zodiark? 'Cause unless you did something while I was out, I haven't seen you do anything that I'd think would be against Him."

 ** _< <I->> _**Emet-Selch quieted, before huffing. **_< <Aside from the fact that I essentially told Elidibus that he could take his own dark crystal and stick it up his vessel's->>_**

"Wait, you didn't -really-, did you?" The Warrior grinned, hooking her arm over his wrist and trying to flatten his fingers out beside her.

**_< <Not verbatim. But the spirit was there.>>_ **

"I wish I'd seen that. Makes sense though, why you'd be on edge after that. The last time you tried to tell him to leave off he gathered the others." Priscilla lifted a hand to stifle a yawn before closing her eyes. "... Still, you haven't saved my life and you haven't done anything to directly -help- me."

**_< <Tch...>>_ **

"You see who dragged me here?" 

**_< <The white-haired midlander destined to become Lahabrea's vessel. He was nearby, and noted the death of Ifrit.>>_ **

The Warrior blinked her eyes open at that, only to try and crane her neck and peer back at the lower edge of the multi-eyed mask. "Thancred? I should've known. They usually send him to follow folks they don't trust. Wait, -death- of Ifrit? It worked?"

An irritated sound hummed out of the Ascian. **_< <-Your- death as well. Fascinating as the process was to watch, I would rather not be subjected to such a view again. 'Tis a shoddy methodology that takes far too much time. Anything greater than a few minutes tends to lessen mental acuity, considering the brain begins to die and deteriorate almost -immediately- without a method to preserve it.>>_**

"Huh. I never knew that. Can you see which parts, I dunno, restore first?" Priscilla paused, before trying to roll over so that she could prop herself up on her elbows and ignore the faint burn from her ribs as they protested. "If this is a sore subject, then I'll drop it. Talking about watching me die can't be pleasant."

**_< <'Tis -not-, and I would very much appreciate a change in topic, and would thank you to stay -still-.>>_ **

"Y'know, that was always something that I wasn't very good at. Besides, you're here. I _never_ got to just hang out with you like this, you were always so shy about it. Sure, you'd use the other one, with the wings for transportation if needed and if you were -really- angry, but I can only remember a few times that you let yourself look like this before." As his grip tightened about her and tried to roll her onto her back once more, she wiggled and squirmed until he let go with another irritated sound. Both of the larger hands curled into fists so that he could prop himself up and peer at her. 

**_< <-Truly-, you never cease to baffle and astound. Anyone else seeing me thus would run screaming for the hills.>>_ **

"Eh, when your favouritest person in the entirety of existence admits to being a body-hopping demon that enforced a pants code in his latest empire, only to wear leggings and skirts because he -could- you stop being too hung up on how folks look and start being more attentive to the soul." The Warrior pushed herself up to sit on his chest, scooting higher until she was just below the rest mask. Reaching out, Priscilla idly traced the crescents marked in white. "Though, not gunna lie, I've always had a lot of questions that i just never got around to asking you, about it. About this. Always figured it looked the way it did because of how you saw yourself." 

**_< <I will neither confirm nor deny, although I will admit that your curiosity is somewhat... Indescribably uncomfortable and liberating all at once.>>_ **

"Can I ask questions, then? I mean, the alternative is I walk out the door and go back to adventuring. At least asking questions I'd still be here, resting my poor ribs." A grey-skinned hand waved idly, and she reached to try and snag the appendage. Obligingly, he let her lay it across her lap, turning his wrist slightly as she inspected the gold-tipped claws. "I'll take that as a 'sure'."

**_< <I retain the right to refrain from answering.>>_ **

"Always. Though, I mean I'd hope there's nothing you wouldn't feel comfortable sharing with me, I'm well aware that this is a weird situation where I remember a whole whack of us learning to get along and overcoming hurdles that you... Well, -don't-. And I'm still trying to find the line of 'too little' or 'too much'. I dunno how you ever managed to do this all these years." Grimacing, the Warrior wiggled her nose before curling his index finger to see if the cap was part of him, or if it was a type of garment. A slight tug confirmed it was solidly anchored, but he brought his other hand up to undo a hidden clasp so that she could slide it free. There was a long moment where she blinked and oogled the pointed nails that had been hidden beneath, smoothing her thumb over one. "... Not so different from my own. Smooth edges. Filed, not clipped?"

**_< <Once upon a time.>>_ **

Priscilla nodded, before working to remove the others and then idly start massaging along the thick knuckles. "Sorry if I'm not good at this. You and Uri used to do this for me all the time, when my hands hurt. I never figured out how either of you _knew_ , but it always made my hands feel better."

**_< <The hands of a caster are their most important tool. Without them, it becomes impossible to trace glyphs, designate targets or handle research.>>_ **

"I can imagine." A slight smile was aimed towards the multi-eyed mask, before she dropped her gaze down to his hand. "... We had talks once, about how a vessel's important and all that. I don't want you to think that just because I said I'm not bothered by your other forms, that I don't think they're -important-." 

**_< <You won, I suppose?>>_ **

The Warrior laughed at that, before nodding. "You eventually agreed that the body -was- important. We'd both agreed that the contents were important, but you always seemed to think the vessel didn't matter that much. Something that could be thrown away as needed. I think Elidibus stealing some of your clones gave my words a bit've weight, and then after that you lending him one considering it meant that I'd essentially kissed lips he ended up wearing. You liked that less than I did, I think, but at the time you needed something to put him in to give him some stability and I'd volunteered to let you share mine."

**_< <This form is comprised of aether made manifest. A temporary measure, albeit a freeing one. I can be seen, like this, by those without the Echo.>>_ **

"Yeah, a bit different than your wings ripping out of a body. Which happened, I think." A thoughtful frown crossed her features before she shook her head. "My memory's a bit hazy in parts, honestly. There was a point where I'd gotten bitten and started to leak memories as fast as I remembered them. You saved me from that. Part of the problem and why it took so long, that there was a bit've the Doom caught up in my aether. You seemed to think it was why I was half-crazy whenever I went into battle for too long."

The massive form under her stilled, and she blinked before looking up to peer at the multi-eyed mask. "I, uhh... Yeah. I can't tell if it's still there, but apparently you didn't notice it until we were starting to get the _fancy_ kind of intimate. I think. Eventually, I learned how to cleanse it. And I'm pretty sure it's been contained for so long that it can't get out on it's own. Sort've like how you kept your Tempering in a..." 

Priscilla trailed off, before looking back down at his hand and simply working on turning it over so that she could massage the meat of his palm and his wrist. "... It's... Sorry, I'm rambling. You probably think I'm a raving -loon-. I'm not explaining how things were connected properly."

**_< <... 'Tis not entirely impossible for it to remain. I would have to rather thoroughly scrutinize your aether, Warrior, to be able pick it out.>>_ **

"If it makes a difference, you've got my permission. It'd be a good thing to kn-" She grunted as both of the smaller hands shifted, one delicately curling fingers around her torso to pick her up as the other tucked under her rump to give her a platform to sit on. The larger pair of hands worked to avoid crushing any furniture as he pushed himself up and ducked to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling. "What's up?"

**_< <I tire of being distracted by looking over my aetheric shoulder every second.>>_ **

* * *

The rift he pulled into being deposited them just outside of his Vault. Blind in the dark, she didn't realize it until he had thumped the butt of his staff against the ground and caused the effigy of Zodiark atop it to glow. Smooth strides took them to the featureless flat wall, before it simply vanished to let them both through and reappeared behind them to seal the gap. Turning, he continued along one of the halls as she relaxed in his grasp. 

"I'm relieved. This place looks the same as I remember it."

**_< <I should not be surprised. You -did- say you were aware of this place.>>_ **

"It makes sense that it'd be the best defended place you could think of, too. When Elidibus tried to wake you up, after Lahabrea died, apparently he had to stand outside and yell before you answered the door 'cause he couldn't get in."

**_< <The Emissary, if he bent his mind to the task, could feasibly enter my domain if he truly wished. But it would be exhausting, and I would be aware of his attempts. Rather the point. It took a great deal of time for me to be able to design something that would counter his expertise with the rifts he weaves.>>_ **

"Alright. How'd you do it?"

_**< <Lamps.>>** _

The Warrior rolled her eyes, glancing around as Hades walked through another wall and then perking up as she took note of the absolutely massive bed set against the middle of one of the walls. "I take it there's both more to that, and that the floor might've been a contributing factor to wanting to leave the Quicksand."

**_< <Both assumptions are accurate.>>_ **

"I'm expecting it to be a comfy bed. It _looks_ comfy." Priscilla smiled as she was gently set on the edge, before watching the spectacle of the Ascian drifting upwards weightlessly and then ponderously flopping face-down onto the plush material. He sank a fair bit, and let out a resonant sigh before bundling one of the pillows under his face. Both of the larger, clawed arms draped off either side, claws resting just above the ground. "Can't be a feather bed. It doesn't feel right."

**_< <'Tis a type of foam that both remains cool and lessens the transference of movement between any two points on the bed. For example, if you jumped it is highly unlikely I would feel it.>>_ **

"What about if -you- jumped?" Pushing herself to her feet, she carefully picked her way around to his so that she could lean and peer at them. The toes of his boots, presumably, poked out from underneath the ragged cloth. Reaching for the black material, she tried to lift it so that she could peer under it before one of his larger hands scooped her up and deposited her next to the pillow so that he could mutter irritably. 

**_< <Do you make it a habit to stick your head under every sorcerer's skirt?>>_ **

"Just the ones I like. Y'know, there was a running gag once, where iff'n I got seen by a guard of some kind and chased down, We'd agreed that I could hide under your skirts while you directed them away." Offering him a grin, she sat down on the bed and leaned against his shoulder, stretching her legs out. "I've only felt your legs the once, through your robes, so I _know_ you have them in this form. Even if the other one's a bit more tentacly and less leggy." 

**_< <You are, without a doubt, the -strangest- mortal I have ever met.>>_ **

"I'm not even really mortal. It just takes a bit for me to get better." The grin grew wider for a moment, before fading. "... I'm going too fast, aren't I. You're flustered, and too worried about being hunted down by the other Unsundered."

**_< <Mildly astute, as well. Look at that, the savage can read an atmosphere.>>_ **

"And now you're finicky because I guessed it right and you don't -like- feeling transparent." Pushing herself up, the Warrior picked her way over to the pillow so that she could approach the four-eyed mask. "I could say it's okay until the aurochs come home, but that wouldn't help you any. How about this? I'll keep watch while you get some rest, yeah? This way, you'll be assured that I'm here, and I promise I won't look under any wraps or anything. Living with the feeling of being hunted gets exhausted, and you seem pretty tired."

There wasn't much he could do to argue with that. Begrudgingly, as she tucked up against the lower edge of the mask and leaned back, the Ascian sighed and then ever so slowly, drifted off. 


	12. Chapter 12

His eyes weren't the right indicators as to whether or not he was awake. She knew that from past experience. Without the strength of the Echo and Blessing she was used to, she couldn't 'hear' when someone was listening, either. She didn't want to try her luck with doing something that might have upset him, which left her facing her greatest foe. 

-Boredom-. 

She had hit awareness less than an hour ago, so sleeping was out. Her ribs hurt, which meant anything that would require acrobatics was _also_ out. Sitting still and doing nothing wasn't an option. That left taking in what she could see of the room from her vantage point, and delaying the inevitable attempt to peek under Emet-Selch's mask for as long as possible. She'd -promised-, after all. 

The bedroom in his Vault wasn't exactly a room she had spent much time in. She hadn't even seen it, though in the past she presumed he must have had one. It had come out that he had been sleeping when Elidibus went to fetch him, after all. That meant this was a prime opportunity to look around. 

Paintings lined one wall. Soaring vistas, maps of cities and specific buildings all of them. She recognized a few, namely the Crystal Tower, the Prima Vista and Azys Lla. From that, she figured maybe they were all things the Ascian had worked on in the past, and spent as long as she could admiring them from her spot on the bed. There was no door, she noted, which hadn't likely mattered to him considering he could walk through solid objects given the urge to. Instead, one wall was almost entirely made of opaque purple crystal through which a faint glow could be seen.

She carefully pushed herself from the bed and dropped down to the floor so that she could move closer and investigate. The only light that she had to go by was the light from the wall and the staff that remained upright where the Architect had left it. Feeling along the smooth, even surface, she tried to press her face against it to see if she could make out any shapes. 

Priscilla couldn't, which made her frown faintly, before she turned back to make for the only wall she had yet to study. Featureless, dalamud red and lacking any decoration, she thought maybe it might have backed onto a hallway. It made a certain amount of sense, considering it was unlikely that Hades would have been willing to walk through a wall and accidentally drop one of his precious artifacts of a bygone era. Tapping on it only confirmed her suspicions, as it didn't sound as solid as the wall that sported the paintings. 

There were few other pieces of furniture, though attached to the ceiling was a number of drapes that would have shrouded the bed if let down. The Warrior amused herself for a while by opening the wardrobe and pulling out what could have only been Emet-Selch's outfit from Allag. It didn't -fit-, which was unfortunate, but spines with their glowing cylinders at the ends amused her. 

She put back everything she touched, except for one thing. The double-layered Garlean coat, with it's short sleeved top and internal, longer sleeved portion. The metal decoration remained pinned to the front, and the Warrior spent a moment tucking her nose against the collar. It _did_ , in fact, smell the way she remembered. Faintly of a specific type of grease used in magitek, mixed with something she couldn't describe. Not _really_. It put her in mind of freshly turned earth and that smell that came after rain she had later been told was called 'petrichor', combined with a nameless spice that was dark and heady. 

It smelled rather like the man stretched out on the bed, though not -quite-. Definitely the petrichor and spice. She missed waking up surrounded by it, if she was being honest, and when she went to put the coat back found herself hesitating. 

_(_ _"My coat? Desperate to see what lies beneath it, are we?"_

_"The hell I am. That thing is fur trimmed, soft and probably worth more than my swords.")_

_("Y'know, some part of me thinks you're liable to poison me but if that's the way I go, at least I go doing the thing I enjoy the most." Accepting the bottle, the Warrior lifted it slightly in a salute only to take a sip and pause. Squinting at the bottle, she hummed thoughtfully and then took another. "... Hey now, that's not half bad."_

_"Sitting in a tree?" Emet-Selch held out a hand, gesturing to the bottle. She relinquished it with an easy laugh._

_"Drinking with someone I'm probably going to end up having to punch in the face later. Enemy is a pretty strong term at this point. Frenemy? Hmm hmm hmm...")_

_("Look, if you want your coat back that bad, you gotta ask me to share it. Because I earned the damn thing fair and square, and one of the few upsides to today was watching Thancred struggle not to ask."_

_The Ascian laughed softly at that, and she didn't have to see his face to know he was smirking. "That was a delight, now wasn't it. Very well. I shall take pity on your current condition just this once. Will you share my coat with me?")_

Priscilla wrapped the coat around her as she perched on the lip of the floor of the wardrobe, and spent the next few bells blindly staring at the slumbering Architect.

* * *

Two dark eyes flickered, before a silver glow took overtook them. They were the bottom pair, and they did a quick scan of the room as Emet-Selch reached out with his other senses to confirm his surroundings. His domain was yet secure, and Priscilla seemed to have made good on her promise. Speaking of, she seemed to have relocated to the floor near the edge of the bed. He carefully shifted along the mattress to peer over, the top pair of eyes lighting as they opened as well. 

**_< <Did you fall off?>>_ **

"Eh? Heh, nah. I got a bit bored, so I started looking around."

_**< <I see. Am I to understand that the sanctity of my undergarment drawer has been fouled?>>** _

The Warrior snorted at that, scrubbing a hand across her face and shaking her head. "Oh, don't worry. I put everything back while looking for your secret smut stash. Didn't find anything _juicy_ -"

**_< <Have you been -crying-?>>_ **

"Of _boredom_ , if anything really." Priscilla pushed herself to her feet and then winced, only to peer upwards. "Are you coming down or are you bringing me up? I tried to climb it and found out real quick that was a bad idea."

One of the smaller, grey-skinned hands reached down, fingers gently curling to pick her up by the back of her shirt and then just as delicately deposited her onto the bed beside him. His other hand drummed idly against the bed, poking out from under the pillow as it was. He started slightly as she waved a hand in front of his masked face, drawing him out of his musings about the smoothness of her answer and how likely it was a truthful one. 

"Hey, so I gotta ask, do you _actually_ have four eyes under there? I'm pretty sure there's a magic visibility shroud thing, sort've like what the Crystal Exarch had to've used to hide his hair and keep his hood in place, that keeps me from seeing your throat and the like, but..." Hades hesitated, and it was enough for her to blink and then stare at him, wide-eyed. "Wait, you -really- do, don't you. Oh man, that's gotta be useful when it comes to judging distances-"

 _Simple as that, isn't it. For her, specifically._ There was something nostalgic about how he partially tuned her out, listening with only enough of his attention to be able to remember it and dwell on it later. Her aether was steady, calm and smooth for all that it was possessed of the fragmented edges typical of a sundered being. Nary a ripple or crinkle that might have indicated that she was faking the ease with which she held herself in the presence of his current form. Minor excitement, of course, when he idly answered a question about the general functionality. Was it difficult to use four arms at the same time? No, not particularly. Like all things, practice was key. Did he -have- wings that he just didn't show like this? He _could_ , but such things tended to be more trouble than they were worth. 

Did she realize how simply _gravitational_ her presence was? How- _why had she stopped talking, and why was she turning red._

"N... Uhh... That's..." Clearing her throat Priscilla glanced away and shifted slightly as she settled her hands on her lap. "I mean, that's a _way_ to put it."

_Oh. -Oh-. He had said that part out loud, hadn't he._

**_< <You are, whether you seem to intend to be or not.>>_ **

"Thanks, I... I think?" The Warrior scrubbed at her cheeks, feeling the way the blush was spreading further until it reached the tips of her ears. "I've lost track of what I was saying."

**_< <Something to the effect of the differences betwixt this form and the -other- monstrous one.>>_ **

"Monster's sort've subjective." She winced at that, and for a moment he wondered at the why of it before she stretched out and settled her hands against her chest. "I'm a monster too, you know. Not in the same ways you think you are. Closer to the ways Zenos is. After everything I told you about what I've done, you have to understand. I've killed a lot of people. Personally. Most of the time deliberately. And I don't... I don't _stay_ dead. I used to struggle with that, an awful lot."

**_< <Curious. But I do agree. Anyone who can slay an Ascian, -truly- kill one of my kindred would be a monster indeed.>>_ **

"There was more to it than that, but yeah. That's true enough. I'd call anyone killing my friends a monster, too." A pained sort of smile crossed her features, before she tilted her head to peer at him. "Hey, I've got a question."

**_< <I would be incredibly surprised it you had just the one.>>_ **

"May I see what's under the mask?"

* * *

When he went still, Priscilla thought for a moment that she had asked too much. He didn't answer right away, either, which had her grimacing and mentally kicking herself until he reached up with one of his smaller hands to palm the silver mask. Two tiny, quiet clicks could be heard, clasps of some kind she presumed, and she sat up to watch curiously as he slowly drew the mass aside. 

The first thing she noticed were the eyes. Four of them, as noted by the mask, but lit by a soft silver glow. His hair was was a solid white colour, and his features were overall more angular. The second thing she noted was that he didn't look like someone had stuck a second pair of eyes above where the eyes would have been on a normal person. The lower set were set a bit lower into the cheekbones than what she might have expected, while the upper pair were set just above where her own eyes would have been. Fine brows cut thin lines above each eye, and she pushed herself to her feet so that she could approach. 

His nose wasn't quite as aquiline as she had thought it might have been. It still sported a prominent bridge, but it wasn't as pronounced as it was in his Garlean Emperor form. His lips were thin, and mouth somewhat wider than she had expected. His lower lip was a darker shade of plum than his upper, and as she tucked both hands onto the pillow she noted the way he shifted back. 

Self-conscious, she thought, and smiled as she tilted her head. "Are you gunna open your mouth and have rows of needles for teeth?"

**_< <That -would- be the proverbial icing on the cake.>>_ **

They weren't. Beyond the slightly pronounced eye teeth, when he spoke they looked average. She frowned as she caught the way his lips moved to help shape the sounds that came out of him, and sat back down near the pillow. "Huh. The -oddest- thing about all of this is the fact that my brain isn't connecting the sounds I hear you make to the shapes they look like your mouth should be making. Then again, part of my Echo translates everything, so it's sort of to be expected."

**_< <You seem to be handling this remarkably well.>>_ **

"Look, unless you're about to _eat_ me in non-consensual ways, why wouldn't I? Your smaller hands are big enough to pick me up like I'm a child's doll, and your head's about half my height in width. All I'm feeling right now is is the urge to get a white marker of some kind and give you two unibrows, and then ask you if that still counts as two unibrows or two separate eyebrows." Priscilla gave him the most innocent look she could as his lower right eye twitched. "What. Look me in the eyes and tell me you _seriously_ thought I was going to freak out."

His silence was proof enough, and she reached up to poke him in the nose as she took note of the faint flush that coloured his otherwise grey skin. 

"Why is it, that no matter what, you always seem to have gorgeous _hair?_ "


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of the time I began writing this, a family member was preparing to be taken into hospice care. I apologize if my updates are a bit wonky, but saying that seems to essentially be the ke to get me to write non-stop so...  
> We'll see how it goes.

She had been right. Through the other unadorned wall was something of a bathroom, though the Ascian had admitted with a roll of his eyes that no, since he did _not_ typically eat in his current form, he didn't tend to need to use much more than the sink or the tub. And that was, he very sternly told her very carefully blank expression, -only- to wash his face to help him wake up or to get the _blood of his enemies off of him_. 

It didn't seem to matter how threateningly he said it, considering she had pressed her lips together in an attempt to keep from laughing. While he muttered and grumbled at her for a lack of seriousness, he couldn't help the slight twitch of his lips at the corners before he swept over to the sink she could have used as a bathtub and ran some water so that he could buy himself some time. He habitually reached out with his aether, searching his surrounds and reassuring himself that his wards were still intact, before his smaller hands came up with a (for him) small towel so that he could dry his face and turn the tap back off. 

Nothing amiss, nothing out of place. Just this cerulean sun down by his leg, fidgeting as she peered around. Her aether grew increasingly amused, swirling and contracting as she attempted to... To what, he pondered, hanging the towel back up. To stifle herself? To restrain herself? 

**_< <Tell me, is it a question you believe I will find scandalous or are you fighting the urge to look under my skirts again.>>_ **

" _Both_." Her prompt answer had him shaking his head and setting his smaller hands on the sink, leaning against the sturdy fixture as he tilted his head to stare down at her. Both eyebrows on the right side quirked up, and she hurriedly looked away as she muffled a sound. Her nostrils flared, he noted, as she tried not to laugh, which really just prompted him to turn slightly and and lean further onto the sink as he shifted one of his feet beneath the robes and toed at her calf. 

**_< <Zodiark's Mercy, -whatever- am I to do with you. Very well then. Entertain me. What is your question?>>_ **

"Well, I -had- one, distracting myself from the leg thing, but then you mentioned your skirts and it went away." Cheekily, she reached out to prod where she figured his knee would be before clasping her hands behind her back. "Oh! I know what it was. Not so scandalous, really. When you made the towels and cloth things, did you use magic or is there a giant loom of some kind hiding somewhere?"

**_< <A mix of both, admittedly. While I specialize in the construction of -structures-, I found ways to while away the time. One can fill the millennia with all manner of hobbies and crafts, after all. Why do you inquire?>>_ **

"You made me a chair once. Well, sort of. You made it from the remains of other chairs, 'cause I kept tipping them back onto the hind feet and that bugged you. It was a balance thing, and between that specific chair and a lot've practice I eventually broke that habit." Stretching carefully, the Warrior felt along her ribs as she checked for residual soreness. Not a lot, but some, and she winced as she reached her limit and dropped her hands. "I loved that chair. I noticed you didn't just snap your fingers and _make_ things, but used the materials around you to turn things into the things you needed. An armchair became a piano bench. Some books became a lute."

**_< <Did I neglect to explain why?>>_ **

Hades frowned faintly, before offering a hand down to her. She blinked, before clambering up into his palm without hesitation so that he could deposit her on his shoulder and then study her reflection in the large mirror. She had anchored herself, before reaching up to tug at the side of his hood and slowly, watching his reaction in the event that he protested, drew it back. "I don't think I ever -asked-, to be fair."

**_< <Someone theorized, once, loosely, just after the birth of my Lord Zodiark, that nothing is ever truly destroyed. However, to create and create and create, endlessly, using the personal aether at one's disposal, causes an imbalance. Yes, things will eventually decay back into aether, but we as a people recover our aether far faster than such things degrade. This imbalance, they theorized, was what caused the Doom.>>_ **

"So you try not to just -make-, and instead change things around you into what you need." Priscilla nodded slowly, shifting across his shoulder to sit closer to his head and start running her fingers through his hair. "What did the Convocation think of that?"

**_< <Too little too late. I mentioned it to them, but it did not quite seem important at the time. Still, over the years I feel I have managed to convince them of such. Of course, they still Create. 'Tis a reflex, and one that the Sundered yet retain from..._ ** **> >**

The Ascian sighed, and shook his head as he dropped part of his gaze to the sink. He could feel the way Priscilla's aether roiled, working with the information given and likely trying to fill in the blanks.

**_< <Nevertheless, you have your answer.>>_ **

"Elidibus made me a drink once. Pulled it out've thin air, trying to bribe me because you'd decided to be a giant asshat and wake me up by theatrically screaming into my ear. It wasn't very good, but then one was fished out of the fridge and I _think_ I remember you turning it into something." 

**_< <I have a difficult time seeing myself do such a thing without reason.>>_ **

The Warrior cleared her throat, and looked away to study the light fixture above the wall. "I may or may not have woken you up sometime during the night to remind me about Eden. What I was _trying_ to do was point out that Eden converts aether, and that the Thirteenth - while a giant void of shadow that can't normally be rejoined - might be something that could be turned normal or into something useful. What I remember us doing, was using Eden to change it into something Hydaelyn could use so that she could absorb it and then shuffle it back into the Source, for a complete Ardor."

**_< <-Eden-? Impossible. It is not suited for travel across the void.>>_ **

"I mean, no, not -usually-, but a whole bunch've the Convocation went and worked on her to make her able to do that." She offered him something of a sheepish smile as he frowned thoughtfully, studying her with both sets of eyes. "From what I gather it worked, somewhat. But I don't know a whole lot about what went on with that part of the plan, considering we were still going around whacking souls out of moons."

_**< <Disregarding the phrase 'whacking souls out of moons, the theory is sound, when you factor in the capabilities of my brethren. Even the Sundered, if enough of them worked in tandem, would be able to do such a thing.>>** _

"Like I said, I didn't have a hand in any of that." Shrugging, the Warrior reached up and hesitantly tried to prod one of the pieces of his crown. After the first tap, she glanced down at his face and then smiled sheepishly at his quirked eyebrows. "-What-. It's floating. It's moving. I can't help but want to touch it and see if it's real or an illusion. Just you wait, your banner's next."

**_< <If you keep this up, the next thing I will seek to keep on my person will be a laser pointer, specifically to see if you chase it like a coeurl pup.>>_ **

Her answer to his resigned words was nothing more than a wide grin.

* * *

When Priscilla stepped out of her room in the Quicksand, it was armed with a shoebill tucked under one arm and the knowledge that Elidibus was in the common room. She didn't look for him, instead checking to make sure her tab was paid and collect a few supplies before heading out to collect Kweh. A glance Emet-Selch's vessel confirmed it as the Architect nodded slightly. 

The Emissary was following them. 

Her painted red mask was settled into it's customary place on her face, before she wheeled the chocobo out and headed into Thanalan at an easy meander. It wasn't long before she found a spot off the road with a tree that she could direct Kweh into the shade of, and settled in to wait. Elidibus didn't disappoint them.

"Honourable Emissary." Pushing herself to her feet as the white robed Ascian stepped out of a rift, she inclined her head politely to him and then tilted her head to the side. "To what do I owe the honour?"

"Warrior of Light." A polite bow was offered to her, before he turned to nod to the shoebill as well. "Most Esteemed Emet-Selch. That you have been informed of who I a-"

"Elidibus." Priscilla's tone was mildly reproachful as she stepped to block the Architect from view. "Come now. Emet-Selch has told me nothing of you or our people. I may be essentially blind, deaf and mute but my memories remain as colourful as they always have. I ask you again, to what do I owe the honour?"

The white robed Ascian paused at that, and studied her for a moment before a faint smile crossed his features. "I see. It is my wish to simply speak with you. You, who defeated Ifrit. If you truly possess the memories you claim to, then surely there must needs be no quarrel between us. We work for the same goals, after all."

"The Ardor." Her head tilted to the side as she considered his words. "I agree with the necessity of the end result, but I loathe the methods you intend to use. Nothing has changed since the day Zodiark came into this world in that regard. I propose to you the same thing I did then. Find another way, and you will have my help."

His smile strengthened, and she hazarded a guess that it was somewhere around Polite Smile Number Three, which she was under the impression he used when he felt like he was talking to a child. "You ask me to forsake my God."

"I ask you to consider that maybe the price is too steep. Yes, Zodiark halted the Doom and yes, He restored to this world a semblance of life, but your god is a hungry god. Once He devours the bulk of the aether in the land to return the Amaurotine citizens that went into His creation, what then? More are sacrificed, to restore life to this world once more?" Priscilla sighed, shaking her head. "Telling you all of this is like talking to Kweh. You hear that my mouth is making sounds, but for all that I might speak sense your Tempering prevents you from accepting it."

"This world-"

"Is _mine_ to protect, too. And your primal, just like all of the primals that Lahabrea and our kin teach the beast tribes to summon, is holding a lot of aether that -must- be returned to the cycle." The Warrior spread her hands, gesturing vaguely as his smile shifted down a notch into Polite Smile Number Four. "This Star is weakened with every primal that gets summoned, and it takes time for that aether to return to where it should be, Emissary. You think it's ever going to work the way you believe it will, when so much of that aether is tied up into your own God?"

"I can see that our discussion has met the natural conclusion that it was destined to." Elidibus inclined his head politely. She snickered, and nodded in turn.

"It has. But we both had to try. If everyone stops using Creation magic, then we can buy more than enough time to implement ways to stop the Doom."

"Naught but the power of Zodiark can do this thing." 

"That's not true at all, and if you'd stop-" Priscilla cut herself off abruptly, looking away and sighing. "... You're Tempered. You can't help but be the way you are."

"I could make much the same case for you." A clawed hand reached out to gesture to her. "The Blessing of your mother, is that not also Tempering?"

"It is. And yet, I can talk about ending Hydaelyn. She's a primal, and is going to have to die sometime too. But that can't happen until after Zodiark, the very being She was created to act as a check and balance for, is laid to rest." The Warrior frowned behind the mask, sighing. "Sometimes, death isn't a _bad_ thing. It's a necessity. It's a -relief-. Take it from someone who knows first hand, craved death and never achieved it. Take it from someone who didn't _let_ someone die when it was all they wanted."

"It seems we shall have to agree to disagree for the time being." 

"So we shall." Priscilla matched the slight bow that Elidibus offered her, and settled her hands on her hips. "Now that we've gotten that out of the way, was there anything else I could help you with?"

"You seem determined to interfere, and it is clear to me that discourse will not dissuade you. With your memories returned to you, it is ever more apparent that the fight for the faith of the Architect is one that I cannot win at this time." Turning, a rift opened as before the Warrior called out to him. 

"One more thing from me before you go. A gift." 

He looked back to study the bottle of beer she held out to him, and then glanced up to study what he could of her aether. It was _blue,_ faceted and open. Calm, like an undisturbed puddle.

Elidibus ignored her, and simply pulled the rift closed as he stepped through it. 


	14. Chapter 14

"Next time, -you- get to do the talking." Priscilla slumped in the saddle, muttering under her breath as Kweh plodded along. The shoebill clicked his beak from where he was settled in her lap. 

"I rather think you did an unusually good job. Did you have that conversation with him in your past future?"

"Not... Really? Not that I can remember. But I remember talking to him, and I remember what I figured most of his smiles mean. He's a bit different untempered, but really, -everyone- is." One hand shifted to smooth along the Architect's feathers. "I'm serious though. I _hate_ talking all forced like that. It's not a natural thing for me. You get him next time."

"-Please-, and spare myself the entertainment?" The beak was aimed to nudge against her arm before he shifted and peered about. "Tch. If it bothers you that much, then very well. I do have the most experience between the two of us in this regard, after all."

"You are the _best_. But about that. I need to ask a favour." The reins were dropped as she trusted the chocobo to continue on, as she turned the shoebill to face her. Once he was oriented how she wanted him to be, the Warrior reached up and pushed her mask to the side. 

"I suppose it was only inevitable. I expect to be compensated for my efforts, you kn-"

She pressed her lips gently against the end of his beak, and then flashed him a grin. "Did I ever tell you about the market value of my kisses?"

* * *

She didn't know what to expect when she was deposited in Garlemald, when she had thought her goal to be in Gyr Abania or Doma. She had asked to be dropped off in proximity to a very specific person after all. On a rooftop, as she preferred. Bundled up against the cold. Staring down at a heavily armored figure as he worked through a series of stances with an air of boredom. 

Perfect. That was the easy part. The hard part was what came after she finished climbing down.

He stopped as she neared the ground. As she touched down, the white-faced helmet turned towards her, and she leaned back idly against the wall. Not for the first time, Priscilla was glad she had a mask to cover her face with. 

"An Eorzean spy? Nay." The Garlean idly rotated the sword in his grasp, swishing it through the air as he turned properly to study her. "-The- Eorzean spy, if rumour is to be believed. Was the death of my great-grandfather not enough for you? Come to while away at the other end of the royal line while the funeral is nigh and the country is in turmoil?"

"You'd think that, wouldn't you. That would be so very typical. Assassin sneaks in, somehow manages to sneak out and comes back for round two with a younger, more spry target. Terribly cliche and boring, really. I did come to fight you, but not for the reasons you might think, and I know I'm not strong enough to defeat you."

"How strange." The words were mused idly as Zenos started to close the distance, sword held languidly off to his side. "Why, then, if you know you cannot win? You lack the accent of a Doman. Did my forces kill someone in Ala Mhigo that was precious to you?"

"Because you are a _challenge._ " Her words caused him to pause, head tilting as he studied her curiously. She drew one of the daggers that had replaced the one melted in her fight against Ifrit. "Because you're -bored-. Because you haven't had a real fight in ages, and everything you've ever had was handed to you by dint of royal blood. Come, Zenos. You want your curiosity sated? _Earn_ the answer to 'who are they'."

For a long moment, he didn't move. Drawing the second dagger, Priscilla idly started to pace in a loose circle around him, even as she coated both blades in the paint she had brought with her. He turned to track her movement, before walking towards her at a leisurely amble. 

Countless battles replayed themselves in her mind. She had fought the man so often, in that other, far-distant time, that she could have done it in her sleep. As they were now, lacking Resonant and the bulk of her Blessing, he was still far stronger and deceptively quick. But he didn't _know_ her. And she...

Well. The Warrior of Light certainly knew _him_. 

When Zenos had finally closed the distance, he swung his blade across diagonally, thinking to cleave her from hip to shoulder but as he led with his foot to begin the swipe, she was already moving. Already stepping aside, tucking up into range and ducking under the gauntlet clad hand that snapped out to try and catch her by the throat. She had survived the first swing, and she could see the way he straightened subtly in surprise. 

His next strike came quicker. A downwards hack that he stepped into to give it more power. The sword met only air and ground as she spun and weaved out of the way. Zenos chased her, moving at little more than a menacing walk as she flit back and forth, first in range and then out. He seemed determined to drive her into a corner, but she was careful to keep from simply _letting_ him. 

Her first counterstrike came when she was a bit more confident with her own relative stamina and strength. Two stripes of blue paint were added to his forearm as she snapped both up and more shoved herself back than managed to move his arm any. Still, it got her out of the way and confirmed that, somewhere along the line, she had gained her first crystal. 

Strength and Endurance. When she had defeated Ifrit, she believed, though sleeping for roughly a week and a half had clearly made her miss the subconscious absorption. A grin split her face as relief flooded her, and she laughed as she dropped under another sword-strike and rolled clear of the following kick. The sound slowed the Garlean's chase of her, until she straightened and peered at how he was standing in the middle of the courtyard. 

"A pleasant surprise. That you have survived so long against me is highly unusual indeed."

"You're going easy on me." Priscilla idly twirled one of her daggers. "I don't have anything sharp enough yet to get through your armor, and you're not using any proper techniques. You're swatting idly, bored and lazy like a giant fat coeurl. Do I have to break your sword before you start taking this with a grain of seriousness?"

"Such _brave_ words. Very well then, Savage. Come. Break my sword if you think you can." The Garlean settled into a loose approximation of a ready stance before sighing as she shrugged and ran at him. Quicker than before, he stepped in to meet her charge and thrust forward with the blade. When she veered right, he aimed to snap the blade over, following the movement and grunting as she abruptly cut across the other way, doing the unthinkable. 

Both daggers thumped harmlessly against his armor, marking the surface with some of the residual paint as she threw them and then reached up to grab the sword as it followed her back. She trapped the flat of it against her side, one arm clamped over it even as both hands latched onto the squared off back of it. A smooth jerk downwards had him pausing as her strength briefly won out over his half-hearted attempt. 

Another tug, and they matched even while her fingers scrambled to retain purchase on the back of the blade and the cartridge barrel. On his third attempt, he clasped the hilt with both hands only to tilt his head as her foot came up to shove herself backwards. She stumbled with the blade she had detached, and sat down heavily as he stared at her. And then at the slightly bloodied blade that she dug out of where it had sawed a half-ilm into her side by her ribs. 

The Warrior laughed once more, and waved the blade at him. "I _knew_ it. Locking pins!"

"Who _are_ you?"

* * *

The alarum wailed in the distance as Priscilla, laughing breathlessly, crossed the last of the rooftops and made it back to where a teenager in a stolen uniform with a shoebill under one arm was waiting for her. He didn't say anything, simply give her an appraising once-over before a rift opened and swallowed them both. It opened and deposited them both in the camp they had set up beforehand in Gridania.

Kweh was tethered to a tree, and as she stepped out and flopped down he lifted his head and warked inquisitively at her. A wave indicated that she was by and large fine, beyond the blood that coated her side, and he tugged himself free of the loose tether so that he could pad over and trill. The feeling of a weak cure spell settled into her side, and she glanced down at it only to look back up and throw her arms around the bird. 

"You did it! Oh well done Kweh!"

"Something the bird tends to do often, is it?" The garlean youth focused for a moment, before the shoebill vanished in another swirl of darkness so that he could pan his gaze over to the Warrior. 

"Used to. Was one of the reasons he was trained to fetch me and flee after I died. It's also why I very specifically wanted him safe. Flies, heals, fights and flees as the situation needs." A slight stretch and a somewhat pained twitch had her patting the bird, urging Kweh to give her some space as she glanced over to take stock of her companion. "Bit young, isn't it?"

"A necessary compromise." One hand was waved, before he started to shed the heavier layers of his clothes. The helmet was next, and Emet-Selch let out a puff of air that blew the white streak of hair out of his face. "With but a little bit of time, I can adjust it accordingly." 

"Fair, that. You ride Kweh, and I'll run alongside when we need to move. I'm not going to get tired, provided I eat and sleep enough. I didn't realize it, but it seems I picked up the fire crystal after all." A grin was turned on the Ascian as she pulled the mask out of the way. 

"You 'picked up' nothing." He scoffed, before he tucked his fingers against his clothes. The cloth shimmered, before altering into a form-fitting black mesh. Syntheweave, she vaguely realized, and then tilted her head as the extra baggy pants he had stripped off shimmered and adjusted into a pair of schoolboy shorts. "When you asked how, exactly, I had betrayed Zodiark, I neglected to answer. It matters little now, however. The crystal appeared when the white-haired hyur dug you out of the rubble, and I held onto it until I rejoined you in your room in the Quicksand." 

"Wait." She frowned faintly, before stepping forward and removing her mask entirely. "If you held onto it, then how...?"

"Your Blessing takes the form of a circle with six empty rings. 'Tis easy to see where, exactly, it was meant to go and you were in no condition to take it into yourself properly. From the accounts of your first and second collection of aspected crystals of light, t'was simply a matter of putting it in the correct spot." Muttering now, he looked anywhere but her as he fixed his coat, brushing a hand through the synthesized fur that lined the collar. All that was missing was the key to his cottage, and he could always make a new-

Two hands turned his face towards her, and she searched his expression as he tried to avoid her gaze. 

"Thank you. I mean it, Hades." 

He shivered slightly at his name, and scowled as he felt his cheeks heating up. 

* * *

There wasn't much to do except wait and see which Primal would pop up next. Without knowing when, exactly, that would be they made their way up through Thanalan towards Silvertear lake. And by 'made their way' really what happened was Priscilla jogged along as Kweh padded after her, Emet-Selch lounging in the saddle as he idly soaked up the stories she told him about what had happened after the First. Whether or not he believed her, he seemed content to let her ramble on about it all until they slowed and she started scrounging along the beach for pieces of cermet. 

"Starting another pet project, are you? I am disinclined to believe that you intend to actually _make_ anything, you know. You have shown absolutely no inclination to craft."

"That's because I've never been any good at it. I tend to rely on other people for that." She flashed him a grin, before putting her head down and picking along the rocks. She avoided specific areas, and sought out others before she finally had an armful of pieces a few fulms in width and length. "I was going to ship these off and see if I couldn't get them made into a pair of swords for me. See, I might've mentioned them before. I had two very specific curved black blades made out of cermet, and inset with flint."

"Ah, yes. The swords you allegedly used to light my great-grandson on fire." An idle yawn was covered by a gloved hand before the Ascian rested it on the saddle. "Re-arming yourself with weapons you prefer is certainly a step in the right direction. I would also recommend barding for your bird, once he has finished fledging. Get him used to the weight a little at a time. My weight or your weight are sleight enough that they will not make much of a difference one way or another."

"I don't plan to bring him into combat, but you've got a point. People without swords or armor can still die." Making her way over to the bird, she offered the pieces of cermet to Emet-Selch and made sure they were secure before turning back and starting to look for more of the mixed ceramic and metal substance. "What about you? Should I grab anything for you?"

"Hmm. I suppose it pays to be prepared. At the very least, gather enough for an adult. I can always fiddle around with it later." 

"Got it. Reminds me, I'm half tempted to swim out and say hello to the old bastard. I sort of don't want to disturb him though, considering the first time I met him _last_ time, he stripped away my Blessing and made me earn it all back." Hauling up a curved piece of cermet, she hefted it a few times and then turned to hold it up for the Architect. "Is this big enough to make a shield out of?"

"Possibly. Come here, and tell me what you think." 

Priscilla blinked, before making her way over and then blinking at the sword he held out to her. "Is that-?"

"A rough approximation of what I imagine the swords in question looked like. Of course, barring an actual image, it was as close as I could manage." He reached for the larger piece of cermet, pulling it from her grasp and settling the hilt in her grasp. She swung the blade for a few moments, before grimacing.

"Weight's a bit wrong. It needs to be a bit wider here, across the blade. It was the type of weapon I could flourish in circles. Close, though."

"Something to work on, then." The rest of the cermet vanished as he snapped his fingers, before she offered the blade back to him. 


	15. Chapter 15

Emet-Selch was something of a schemer. A planner. Someone who thought about a problem and came up with _options_ on how to solve it. These options generally ranged anywhere from hands on to methods that would take care of something for him, several steps removed from the need for him to even lift a finger. Rare was it that he was so thoroughly stumped as when he tried to contemplate ways to remove his own Tempering. Hindered as he was by that very shackle, thinking of getting rid of it was almost painful. It was _blasphemous_ , and felt similar to when he borderline lied. 

That wasn't to say that he didn't. Simply that he understood the consequences of what he was attempting and had personal experience enduring such things. He hadn't exactly shirked away from painful situations for millennia, after all. He had a vault full of corpses to attest to the truth of that. 

Still, the process was unpleasant in it's entirety. First, he had to understand what, exactly, his Tempering consisted of although that was the _easy_ part. It was an influx of void-based aether that had saturated his own, and -lingered-. It was as if he was a sponge, and it a very specific colour of ink that the Ascian had been soaked in. It didn't _change_ what he fundamentally was, but altered how he could operate. And just like a _stain,_ it lingered. 

If he thought about it like that, it became somewhat easier to manage. Stains could be bleached (Hydaelyn's Blessing? The concept made him physically -cringe- in the saddle, and earned him a curious look from Priscilla that he waved off with a bid for her to continue her tale. Something about Ascians making pancakes, of all things.) but that would only transfer the problem to another 'colour'. To return the original colouration to his proverbial sponge he would likely need a mild amount of a neutralization agent, the original colours to dye it, or an awful lot of time for the stain to fade by itself. 

The latter was impossible. While he recognized that his own aether _had_ to some degree weathered the 'ink', if it had been something that would permanently fade it would have by then. Millennia had yet to shake it from him, regardless of how it may or may not have faded just a -smidgen-. The original colours were also impossible, considering aether -while it could certainly have elemental inclinations that gave an individual an affinity for one type or another- was also invariably unique to that individual. His past self would have to have somehow speared through the timeline and bound a portion of himself to an item and left it there for him. Unfortunately, any aether imprint of his own that he could think of was already stained. 

That left a mild amount of what constituted aetherical _soap_. The Architect felt his lips curl as his mind ran through a list of physical reagents that ranged from mild acids to industrial strength cleaning solutions for floors and walls. None of them would be of any use to him. Of course, there was always the fourth option that had him instinctively recoiling. 

The Warrior of Light could _cut_ it out of him. He didn't like to think about what his proverbial sponge would look like after the fact, but if he had theoretically survived the process none the worse for wear there was the barest ghost of a chance that it might be viable. If the Emet-Selch that Priscilla remembered had been willing to aid her aim so that she might sunder the stain out of the other sponges, then perhaps he had come to the same realizations that the Ascian was currently mulling over. 

There had to be another _way_. Even her method would require a fair bit of time to prepare, considering she had been very specific about the conditions she was able to cut such things under. She had to be powerful. Empowered to the point where she would have been strong enough to blow a hole through _his_ chest. Eight times rejoined and empowered by her full Blessing. The first few times had been messy, but after enough practice and enough growth she had been able to manipulate her own aether to empower it herself, thus negating the requirement of an additional supplement. 

He didn't _like_ it. He needed a distraction. That meant picking at random from the list of questions he both wanted to ask and hesitated to seek the answers to.

"Thus far, everything you have spoken of is from the perspective of a future that is unlikely to unfold exactly the same way." The words were carefully chosen, and he frowned faintly as she tensed. "These are memories that I have no personal experience with. Is there a reason why you have yet to bring up any memories from the far past that we might share?"

Priscilla reached up to trace her fingers against the largely featureless red mask she wore, and then sighed. "... There is. I... When you said that Eschaton didn't mean anything to you, that made me doubt whether or not they're _accurate_. So far, it looks like some things are? But not enough. For example, you and I _clearly_ knew each other in Amaurot. It certainly seems to have existed, but my 'title' was wrong. My name, Persephone, seems to be right, but..." 

"I will admit that you are correct in recalling that you were a member of the Convocation, if you find it any consolation." The Ascian's frown deepened as he watched the way her aether roiled and shifted, as if unsettled. "You will never verify the truth of the matter without speaking of them, and I am singularly qualified to confirm such things."

"Because you can't forget, yeah..." The Warrior grimaced, before scrubbing a hand across the mask. "Alright. Just one, to start with then. Just... All I ask is a bit of patience and, I dunno. Forgiveness? I guess? Talking about it makes me feel like I'm an orange that's being torn in half to leave me raw and -exposed-."

He smoothed the frown from his face as she glanced back to him, waving a hand through the air in a non-committal manner. "Your memory has never been the most _reliable_ , so to speak. I will not be offended if you get one or two details wrong. Provided you are not misremembering me for _Lahabrea,_ of course."

"Alright, alright, that's fair. Where to start, though... Okay, there's a good one." Emet-Selch found himself a little relieved as her aether settled, quirking a brow as she slowed to draw level with the chocobo and then peer up at him as she continued. "Once upon a time, I was running away from my minders. I'd just gotten back to Amaurot, and I was running to avoid them. You and Hythlodaeus spotted me, somehow, since you ended up in the alley I was hiding in. One of my minders found us, but I'd hidden in the ditch nearby, and you both made them go away."

He studied her for a moment, rifling through his earlier memories. She was clearly pensive, and he debated drawing it out simply to make her squirm. Oh, but he -couldn't-, not this time. Not if he wanted her to feel free to speak with him and share the things he craved to hear. Now was a time to reassure her. 

"You did more than simply hide as I recall. You camouflaged your aether, something as of then unseen among your skill set." 

Relief bloomed through her aether, and she shifted her mask aside to grin at him. "I can't do it myself, not really, but I might be able to if I get stronger." 

"The proverbial 'shortcut' to such a state being the collection of these aspected crystals it seems." He mused for a moment, before shaking his head. "Well. Their collection appears to be rather straight forward and simply requires some small amount of 'heroing' and then the death of a creature possessing a large enough amount of the correct aspect of aether."

"'Heroing' for the sake of the crystal doesn't work. I tried that route already." A grimace crossed her face, before she turned to make sure she wasn't about to trip over any rocks. "I went to where I found the first one, grabbed the crystal. It didn't light up, so I went -back- and then whacked the goobbue. Which still didn't make it light up. I figured from that that I needed to do _honest_ 'heroing', which means helping folk because I want to help."

"Hence the reports of the masked individual across La Noscea." Emet-Selch sighed, before lifting one hand to rub between his eyes. "Describe for me then, the thought process that went into killing Ifrit."

The Warrior stopped, and Kweh continued on for a few steps before turning to wark at her as the Ascian on his back twisted to frown at her. His mouth opened for a brief moment before he slowly closed it, taking note of the way her shoulders were rounded and slumped. She reached up and removed her mask, only to hold it in front of her so that she could study it. 

"... Do you remember, when I talked about my Unicorn Knight? Ah... Silly question, that. You can't _not_ remember. An absolute madlad. I've thought about it, you know. Finding him here, in this time. I didn't _love_ him. Not the way I love you. But..." Priscilla glanced up at the Architect, a wry smile crossing her features. "I wonder about him, because I know how he was, y'know? Would he, not knowing about the type of immortality I've got, still take a lance of light for me? Me, someone he'd only known a short while. Someone who was adopted into his family as a sister for political reasons, strictly to open doors. The Scions were my first real _friends_ , but Haurchefant was my second -brother-."

She peered upwards, staring unseeing at the sky as clouds rolled on overhead. "It got me to thinking. Are we shaped by our choices, or are our choices the result of who we are as people? I've never been the smartest, and it's not the easiest question to answer even when you are. It's a sort of 'what came first' type of thing."

"And your answer?" Emet-Selch swung his leg over the back of the chocobo, sliding down to the ground and stepping closer. 

"I don't know if I have one yet, but I can feel the shape of it. The outline, the edges of what it might be." Tilting her head back down, an almost sad smile crossed Priscilla's face as she shrugged. "Both. And neither. I'd bet my bottom gil that he's going to be exactly the same. That he'd act, exactly the same, because it's who he _is_. Which made me then question who am -I-. If I could light the damned things the first time around without knowing what the hells I was doing, why didn't that one glow for me this time?" 

"Because you were not yourself?"

"Sort of. I've never been one to turn away from someone who needed help, even if it meant getting myself into trouble. I stick my nose into people's business, even when I'm not welcome. I make the impossible -possible-, either by luck or by sheer stubborn determination. Sometimes it doesn't work out, but a lot of the time it does. Part of that, was putting my life on the line because my life didn't _matter_. Not really. Not the way normal people's do. When I die, sure it takes a bit but I get -better-. It means I can fight primals alone, just me and them, and all the faces of the people who would've been tempered are safe." Looking back down at the mask, she brushed her fingers across the plain, red-painted wood. The bottom edge was traced, before she held it up to peer through the eyes to the Ascian. "Those people fighting the goobbue when I ran through to get the crystal. I found them later, you know. They'd both died, and were buried by Summerford because I didn't help them. I -wanted- to, but I was so hung up on hitting benchmarks and checkpoints for this great 'plan' I'd come up with that I just grabbed the crystal and left. There's a difference between not being able to save someone because you can't and not being able to save someone because you think you might not make the next boat out of Aleport."

"And you believe that Hydaelyn keeps such close tabs on you that she decides when you are being 'heroic' enough?" A brow was quirked at her, before she chuckled and shook her head. The mask was slid back into place over her face as she tightened the strap behind her head. 

"Nah. She still hasn't talked to me yet, so I don't think she's keeping close tabs on me at all. But -I- am, and that's reason enough for me."

* * *

Priscilla had never much enjoyed the Copperbell mines. Still, she had known they needed to be cleared so that Ul'dah could continue with it's rebuilding process after the last calamity. It was an easy enough 'next step', and it would help her gather things to sell (which was the main reason as to why she brought Kweh and his saddle bags) and also give her some space to practice. Emet-Selch accompanied them both, but strictly speaking only to protect the bird. If the Warrior hadn't known better, she might have thought he was just too lazy to _leave_ since he was back in the saddle and essentially being carried around everywhere. 

It had been a _very_ long time since she had been through the mines. The sprites and spriggans were easy enough to deal with one at a time, but the first hecatoncheires that burst through a wall both scared the living daylights out of her and also frightened her off the ledge. The Architect had very nearly fallen out of the saddle as he laughed until it made the mistake of charging at Kweh with a bellow of 'chicken'. He almost hadn't been able to get a defensive spell up in time as he clutched his ribs. The chocobo had turned and started trying to figure out a way down before Priscilla finally made her way back up and killed the thing from behind. 

From there, the Warrior grumbled and delegated picking through the bodies and any rubble for Useful Things to the Ascian as he tried to stop laughing at her. Her bad luck didn't improve any, considering Kottos landed directly on top of her before chasing Kweh around in circles as the bird slowly but surely mended her wounds through a series of weak healing spells. Emet-Selch, as he was wont to do, simply kept the bird safe by periodically shielding the bird with a ripple of aether. They decided to camp there for the 'night' as she double-checked her wounds and the chocobo rested, exhausted after the ordeal. 

Things started looking up for her after that. The Architect, feigning sighs of boredom, had agreed to hover in the middle of the room as Priscilla taunted the bombs into place to break up the ooze that had infested that part of the mine and then ran to kill the spriggans that periodically came to investigate the commotion. After that, it was hit and run tactics until she made it to the lair of Gyges. 

He was the same two-horned giant she remembered. Despite the half an hour she spent running around, trying to convince him to just work -with- the miners he seemed determined to break through walls and call on his kin to turn her into a fine paste. There were three of them by then, and she had the unique opportunity to watch Emet-Selch hauling on the reins to wheel Kweh about in a mad dance to avoid getting hit. She assumed he must have been bored of simply standing there, considering there was little to no chance that they would have been able to hurt either of them. 

Her distraction cost her. She didn't quite get clear of a heavy swipe of the maul Gyges had aimed at her. The way heat bloomed through her arm, followed by pain made her think she must have been lucky. It felt more like a dislocation than a break. The briefest of moments was spent _fixing_ that little problem before the Warrior had to dive into a forward roll to get between the feet and clear of the next attack. Two quick strikes weren't enough to hamstring him, so she found herself rushing off to the side to avoid a kick before sweeping back in to aim for the same spot. 

It worked, and the giant came down far enough that she was able to get back in close and cleave one of the daggers across his throat. He wheezed, one hand coming up reflexively to stem the blood as the other lost it's grip on the maul. He went down heavily after that, bleeding out as his kin fled. She had almost felt bad for him after that, but consoled herself with the fact that she _had_ tried repeatedly to talk to him, to no avail.

Sore, tired and victorious, the three of them emerged from the Copperbell mines and into the sunlight of another bright, Thanalan day. For the first time in a long time, Priscilla found herself in high spirits. She could _do_ this. Enough was matching up that she could reliably depend on her knowledge. 

Her linkpearl chimed. It was Urianger. Another primal had been summoned, this time by the kobolds. 

Her legs ached at the memory of repeated breakage by way of constantly being knocked off of a platform, and just like that, her good mood was gone.


	16. Chapter 16

The memory of the countless knives she had broken against his ankles haunted her as she tried to come up with a plan. Without the ability to see the ranges and paths of Titans attacks, she knew she was going to have a hell of a time avoiding the landslides. Which meant either trying to figure out the best way to light the blue crystal or going in essentially blind. One of those options made it more difficult for the general populace, while the other made it more difficult for _her_. 

No contest, really. She made for the Navel without a seond thought, regardless of the consequences. She never had been one to hum and haw while people were in danger after all and even if she jus stalled for time it kept that many more people out of the way.

She didn't go in entirely unprepared though. On the trip to upper La Noscea, she spent her time testing various shapes of cermet swords that Emet-Selch produced for her. It was interesting, watching him work, considering there was essentially a swirl of aether and then it was abruptly in a different configuration. She tried to get him to explain the process, but he refused based on the fact that it wasn't something she was going to be able to do _anyway_ , and as such would be naught but a waste of his time. 

The result was that she finally had a pair of swords that _felt_ like her black blades, even if they didn't quite look like them. The Warrior was simply thankful that they were the right shape and weight, as it would make fighting a whole lot easier. She could see no complications with the upcoming fight, provided she was able to keep from getting knocked off the platform. 

The Ascian waved her off, mentioning that he would (as usual) see to the safety of her bird from a vantage point that would give him the best view, and wished her luck.

* * *

Titan was, as she remembered, little more than a bundle of rocks before she made her appearance. Then, the gathered kobolds called to their god and fled as he formed, leaving her essentially alone on the platform. As the rock finished compacting, she sighed and straightened her posture, before spreading her arms. 

"Look, I don't want any trouble, can we just tal-?" Titan hauled back with a fist, before aiming to slam it down onto the ground. She scrambled madly to the side, cursing and drawing both blades as she was swept from the platform. The plummet was halted by a pair of stabs into the side of the pillar, and she continued cursing even as she started to climb her way back up. 

_\Thy coming hath been foretold, bearer of a tainted_ _light. Bandy not words with me, for they are hollow things indeed.\_

The Ascians. Right. For a moment she had forgotten that they had both gone around teaching people how to summon primals, but also started forewarning them about her after her interference. Making her way over the edge of the platform, she blinked as she realized Titan was nowhere to be seen. She _remembered_ what that meant, and scrambled forward a few fulms as he landed in the center of the platform, causing the sides to fall away. 

A close call. Picking herself up, she flourished both of her blades and then grimaced as she put her head down and charged forward. Dropping into a slide, she went right between the primal's feet and avoided the next landslide and managed to hack at one of the ankles on the way by. The blade bit into the stone, and she silently thanked the durability of the blade, the material it was made from and the hands that had shaped it even as she surged back to her feet. Spinning and slicing, she avoided the worst of one punch, and then leapt clear of a stomp before coming right back in to hack at the left foot. 

She struck the same spot three times before she had to scramble away, avoiding the boulders. Foggy memories of them exploding in an order had her avoiding the first ones, and then running to the empty space it had once occupied after they had exploded. By the time she turned back to the primal, it was roaring and spreading it's arms, seams alight with golden brown aether. The heart, which she knew she had to destroy, was...

In the middle of the chest. Far and away out of reach. If she had the blue crystal...

It didn't matter. She took a deep breath and ran, leaping to try and stab the first sword into Titan's hip. It stuck, and from there she leapt and swung to try and crack the sword against the primal's heart. She missed, but that was largely due to the open-palmed swat that cracked one of her ribs and flung her to the ground. A mad scramble that turned into a desperate roll had her clear of the stomp, but only just. Hauling herself back up, she was forced to turn and sprint sharply to the side as Titan slammed his fist down onto the ground, launching a landslide that she barely cleared. 

She had to get _up_ there. Rushing in a circle around the primal, she leapt and snagged the blade embedded into the kobold's god before reaching up once more. Her sword scraped across the golden brown crystal in the center of the chest, before aether streamed outwards to fill her senses with light and cacophonous noise. 

Priscilla came to, flat on her back and coughing up blood as she realized she must have been swept clear of the platform. Weak healing aether trickled through her, and with a groan she started to push herself up to to a sitting position and then scrounged around for the sword that had made the journey with her. 

"Thank's, Kweh."

The chocobo warked at the rasped out words, and as her wounds mended she started the climb back up.

* * *

It took her three more tries, each where she was either swept clear of the platform by a landslide or misjudged the amount of the platform that was being knocked clear before plummeting to the ground beneath the stone arena that Titan paced restlessly. She had managed to recover her second sword, but everything _hurt_ and she couldn't say for certain if she had been there a handful of minutes or a handful of _days_. Death had thus far been avoided, but she could tell she was running out of stamina. Half of the problem was the climb back up, but she couldn't ask Emet-Selch for help. She wheezed as she rolled over the ledge once more, and pushed herself to her feet. 

Primal and primal-slayer regarded each other for a long, silent moment while the Warrior caught her breath. Flourishing both blades, Priscilla straightened and let out the deeper breath she had taken, before charging in. 

The landslide that came for her was avoided by ilms. She had a feel for them now, and hacked at the left leg as she spun by. Two strikes, neat and clean that removed a chunk the size of her forearm before she was clear. The next time she spun, she missed as he leapt up, snagging the ceiling and gathering himself for the drop. She dashed to the edge of the platform, measured a number of paces back, and then used the six seconds she had remaining to adjust her grip on her swords before he came back down and sent the outer edge of the ring collapsing and sliding down towards the far away ground. 

Another dash in had her sweeping both blades up and to the side, blocking what she could of the blow and sliding what she couldn't aside as her blades drew a line of sparks up along his forearm. The kick caught her square, but she rolled with the momentum and regained her feet just as what she had dubbed the 'explody rocks' had landed. There, those would go first, which meant...

It meant she had to be beside the middle one, and then dash to the east before the dust and shrapnel had settled to avoid the next two waves. She came back in in time to take another chunk out of his hip on the way by, gritting her teeth as a landslide just missed her once more. Two steps and a tumble had her clipped by the edge of a kick, and she came back up in time to dive to her right and clear the next landslide. 

She wasn't hitting it hard enough, she realized, and grit her teeth as she continued whittling the primal down bit by bit. She would have _loved_ to have simply unloaded the strength of a strike she remembered having into his stupid, rocky face, but that would have both utterly drained her and done little, considering he was likely going to just increase his defenses the very moment she tried. That left waiting until she made him reveal his heart, and shattering it and then hoping she retained the strength required to whittle him down the rest of the way. 

The strain of the fight made her very bones ache. Of course, half of that might have just been the constant healing Kweh offered every time she was knocked down off the platform. The Warrior tried not to think too hard about how many times her legs had been broken, and wasn't looking forward to how long she would probably have to rest to recoup her strength. Provided, of course, she was able to kill the blasted thing. 

Her focus sharpened as golden brown aether flickered through the cracks of the primal, and settled herself at the edge as she waited for the heart to reveal itself. 

As his arms dropped, she gathered herself and ran in. The landslide that came for her was avoided as she dove to the right, and as she came up she pivoted and put as much as she dared into hurling one of her curved blades at the primal's heart. It connected, cracking the gemstone as Titan roared, and she dashed back to avoid the roiling ground that had staggered her more than once. Priscilla couldn't wait for it to clear, and as the primal reached up to tear the sword out of his chest she took a running leap and hacked at the heart. Ifrit's strength surged from her legs to her arms mid-air, before the world went tan with golden brown aether and a cacophonous roar. 

* * *

The sounds of battle roused her, although the pain that wracked her made her almost wish it hadn't. 

Reflexively, the Warrior started to try and push herself up before realizing she was pinned in place by one of her swords. The flat of it was wedged against her side, and it was all that seemed to have kept her from sliding off of the platform. One hand levered the sword out of the ground, and she lamented the jagged hole in her clothes before snapping her head around to where Titan's back was turned to her. He was fighting someone, and for a moment she thought that perhaps the Architect had stepped in. 

But no, that couldn't be right. He wouldn't leave Kweh, and the bird was nowhere to be found. Besides, he wasn't really able to help her like that. So then, who...?

Panic flared through her as she recognized the edges of a red bustle. If _he_ managed to get himself tempered, then there wasn't going to be a force on Eorzea that could save them. She cast around for her other sword and, when it wasn't immediately visible, rushed in to join the fight. A fist came back, before slamming down. She would have expected her unusual ally to be knocked back the same way anyone would have been, but he snapped one sword down to drive it into the ground and instead skid back a few fulms. Free hand coming up, he knocked away the incoming kick enough that he didn't lose his precarious perch on the edge of the platform. 

A running jump had her sinking the blade into the primal's back with everything she had, right up to the hilt. The blade sawed downwards as she swung her weight, and Titan bellowed even as he staggered back and reached, trying to tear her free. A rocky hand clamped onto her boot, but she kicked her foot free in time that her footwear was all that found itself chucked over the edge. Dropping down, she scrambled for the other edge of the platform as rocks plummeted down from the ceiling and then stared as she caught sight of the blade she had been missing. 

It was embedded in the primal's chest. He made it two steps towards her, and then roared as he staggered forward a step. Rounding on the other swordsman, the primal clapped his hands together and there was a muffled grunt as rock encased them. It gave her enough time to scramble closer and haul her sword out of the primal's back, and then dive into a roll to clear the next landslide. 

A running jump had her kicking off from the top of her entombed aid, and then cleaving her sword into Titan's head. As he stumbled and stilled, she hauled her blade free and then tore the second clear as well, dropping to the ground once both blades were in her possession once more. The primal staggered, and then collapsed face-first onto the ground, breaking into tiny motes of golden light. 

The layer of stone that shrouded and coated the other swordsman crumbled, and Zenos staggered forward a step to catch his breath, taking stock of his surroundings and his own battered, badly dented armor. 

"When I decided to hunt you down, I will admit. I did not expect to find you slaying an eikon." 

"What the hells happened to the funeral in Garlemald?" Sitting down heavily, Priscilla flopped back and stretched out, wheezing quietly as the blond swordsman made his way over. 

"It _bored_ me."

The words drew a laugh from the Warrior, and she slowly shook her head as he offered a hand down to her.


	17. Chapter 17

She knew better than to accept his help up, specifically because he had his sword in the other hand and using his grip on her would be a surefire way to hit her without giving her the option to dodge. Pushing herself up instead, the Warrior gathered her swords and sheathed them, studying the Garlean. She was in worse shape than he was, which made her more than wary of him. Being faced with him while hale and hearty was one thing, being faced with him when she felt more than half dead was another. 

"How the _hells_ did you get here, let alone find me?" 

"Garlemald has many airships at her disposal." The hand was lowered as he studied her, face still obscured by his helmet. "For all that we spoke briefly, your words echoed that which has long laid within my own mind. You, who knew you could not win against me, yet stood your ground and fled, laughing with the blade of my weapon. You, who sought me out simply for the _challenge_ of it. The way you moved when we fought spoke of a great deal of familiarity with my swordsmanship. Many times, you moved almost before I had begun to swing my blade, as though you knew what I would do before even I did." 

"Ah. So I _did_ manage to rouse the great Garlean Prince's curiosity." Dusting herself off, Priscilla made her way over to the edge of the platform and peered downwards. She could faintly see movement, and a brief flash of a red glyph aimed upwards lit the bottom of the pit. Tilting her head slightly, she noted the utter silence from the man behind her and tried to gauge whether or not he was about to attack her from behind, or if he intended to whack her as soon as she turned around. "Please tell me you didn't park a Garlean airship in Lominsan airspace and fueled the war effort." 

"What does it matter? You and I are here. It was not so difficult to follow the rumours of a red-masked savage of your stature."

"And I suppose you want to fight me right now, don't you." Turning towards the blond swordsman, the Warrior leaned back as she noted how close he had come. "I'd be _horribly_ poor sport, given that I almost can't walk. I think I broke my legs on the second time I got knocked off the blasted thing, and you'd take me out the moment I couldn't dodge even with your laziest back-handed swipe."

"Indeed, the thought had crossed my mind." His muffled voice sounded pleased, before he let out a low sigh. "But to hunt a half-dead doe is, as you say, no sport at all. Come. My Medicus will tend to you."

"There's, uhh... A bit've a complication with that." Priscilla cleared her throat, before noting the swirl of darkness that deposited an Ascian just behind the Legatus of the XIIth. "I've got some folks I need to meet back up with-"

"Let them wonder. Will it not feed into your budding legend of a red-masked wraith? You will come with me, or I will strike you down." The sword lifted, and Emet-Selch sighed over his shoulder, invisible to the Garlean.

"He remains the most stubborn of fools, I see. Fret not, Priscilla. 'Tis a simple matter for me to catch up. And no, before you ask, I will not leave your precious bird behind. Do not forget the crystal."

The Warrior relaxed slightly and lifted her hands. A quick glance found her glowing target, and she made her way over to scoop it up and then tuck it away. "Alright, alright, thank's for thinking of me are in order then. You know where you're going, so you get to lead and I'll just sort of hobble along after you."

The sword lowered, and she made a face beneath her mask as Zenos walked through the spirit of his great-grandfather.

* * *

The Warrior heaved a sigh of relief as the air-tight airship surfaced from where it had been parked _under_ the water. She thought it was clever, and saying as much earned her a derisive scoff from the massive Garlean that stood beside her. He dismissively waved a hand. 

"During a time of war, to so openly announce one's presence in the middle of enemy territory is asking to be harassed constantly. _They_ would bore me. I am here for you, not them, and they should consider themselves thankful that I considered them at all." The cargo doors opened as the airship rotated to bring it to bear. Zenos took two running steps and launched himself across the gap, landing heavily and then turning to wait for her to join him. 

It was over a dozen malms. Was he testing her, or simply showing off? Likely neither, she realized with a sigh, he probably hadn't even thought about it. Hobbling back to give herself more room for a running start, the Warrior of light focused to try and adjust her Blessing to strengthen her legs. A short run and the resulting leap had her just short of her goal, impacting her ribs against the bottom edge of the door frame. Wheezing, she sunk her fingers into the spaces between the grates before she clawed her way over the threshold. 

"Reports of your travels over the rooftops of Garlemald indicated such a distance was of no issue to you." Disappointment coloured his voice, and she grunted as she pushed herself up, the doors closing behind her. 

"I didn't have two broken _legs_ in Garlemald, now did I. Tends to make things like that harder." 

"It is my experience that those with broken legs do not walk, they crawl." The words were a confused question without the lilt at the end, and she would have brushed it off as arrogance if she hadn't known him for so long. With a shrug, Priscilla followed him through the pairs of saluting Garleans as he made his way through the halls. Turning, a door opened and he stepped through. 

"For the most part, that's what happens. I've been told I'm crazy though, and moving on broken legs is probably one of the reasons why. It's just pain, and bone fragments sawing into the muscles. Nothing your healers won't be able to fix. Garlemalds got a lot of medical expertise after all." Wrinkling her nose at the chemical smell of chemical cleaners, Priscilla settled onto one of the cots as Zenos sat down on another. It creaked under the combined weight of him and his armor, but held as some of his specialists came in. A quick glance at their armor identified them. A Praefectus Medicorum, and a handful of veteran field medics. 

A privacy screen was pulled between them as the medicus staff realized she was _female_ , and the Warrior snickered quietly as they brought her a change of clothes. She waved them off, insisting she could manage on her own as heavy thunks of magitek armor hitting the floor echoed through the room. Blessedly, they left her alone for the time being to help on the other side of the screen. 

Garlean fibers made up the bulk of the clothing. Under-armor, she vaguely recalled, and the stretchy-ness of the black fabric made her shake her head. It clung to her, and she felt she looked ridiculous enough already that adding her mask wouldn't make or break it. The short sleeved shirt and shorts put the bruising that ran the length of her legs on display. 

Noting that nobody was there, she took a moment to dig out the golden brown crystal. As she studied it, she felt herself drawn into it's depths before her world shifted. Opening her eyes, she let out a soft sigh as she recognized the area around her. 

Blue, lit by distant streamers of silver. She stood in the center of a circle, with spokes that led outwards to other, smaller circles. A red crystal floated idly in one, and she found herself smiling as she imagined Hades carefully navigating her soul before slotting it in place. 

The earth-aspected crystal vanished, and a pulse of light surged along one of the spokes. It reappeared in it's chosen space, and the Warrior closed her eyes as she felt new strength pulse through her. Opening them found her on the cot with a field medic staring at her, wide-eyed above the light blue mask that covered his mouth. She followed his glance down, and wiggled her toes as she took in the way the bruising across her legs was already fading with the boost to her constitution.

"Don't worry about me. I'll be fine with some sleep." 

"I heard the bones scraping against one ano-" She hopped down and pressed a finger against the half-mask, quietly shushing them. 

"I'm the _strangest_ person in the world right now. I said don't worry about me-" The curtain was shoved aside as Zenos waded through the half dozen medicus staff that had started tending to his injuries as best he would allow them. Dressed similarly, albeit lacking a mask, his expression was intrigued as she laughed and moved to sit back down on the cot. "Forgot you were there for a hot second. Alright, alright. I'll tell you this much. It's ancient savage magic that's bound to my bones. If I've got time to rest, I can usually recover well enough on my own from things like broken legs."

"And missing limbs?"

The Warrior paused, looking thoughtful. "Probably not yet. I'd need to get four times stronger than I am now, I think, before I could do that. Possibly really angry, too."

"Even death?" The Garlean Legatus settled back down and obligingly held still as the last two fingers of his left hand were splinted. They had turned an ugly purple, and she tilted her head to contemplate his questions. 

"I'd say that's probably a worse injury than losing a limb, so I might want to get more than four times stronger before testing that theory. Mostly- Okay, so I'm going to back it up a bit here. Primals use aether, and can put that aether into other people to make them slaves of a sort. The ancient savage magic I've got protects me from that, and it's built me with killing primals in mind." Swinging her legs, she noted only a residual ache in her shins and knees as she hummed. "Sort of like how you were built to physically be the best. To my knowledge, anyone else with this ancient savage magic gets a a share, but I'm aiming for six times as strong as what would be 'normal' for someone in my situation."

"There are others then. Others, with this ancient savage magic." It was his turn to think on her words, though her next ones made him frown faintly in disappointment.

"Sort of. I'm already stronger than any of them, and barring a giant dragon tearing the magic away, I'll just keep getting stronger. I'll admit, I was planning on practicing with you, since you're hands down the physically strongest person I know. I don't have to hold back, and I thought you might appreciate not having to hold back either." Priscilla flashed him a grin, before shaking her head as she remembered she was wearing a mask that hid the entirety of her face. "Fighting pri-ah, eikons, though, they'll probably be able to turn you into a slave the way you are. Strong, yes, but you're not _protected_."

"So forthcoming and willing with information..." Zenos leaned back, musing over her words. Bruises discoloured his left shoulder all the way down his pectoral to his ribs, and she couldn't help but think with a wince that he must have eaten more than one landslide pointblank.

"I've nothing to lose and everything to gain with your willingness to fight me. I'd wager that I might draw even with you for a good five, maybe ten minutes before I'd have to retreat and be able to take two whole strikes from you during that time. Only one way to find out, and I hope I get to after eating and sleeping for a bit."

Blue eyes glittered at her as his face pulled into a slight grin. Pushing himself to his feet, he gestured towards the door. "Very well then. To challenge me not once, but twice is a rare honour indeed. Come. Let us find what passes for food and feast to recover our strength."

"Don't have to tell me twice." A sloppy Garlean salute was offered to him, before she settled onto her feet and gestured for him to lead. "I trust that your staff aren't going to destroy my things. I'll need them tomorrow morning, if we're going to fight."

"They will see to it that they are cleaned and repaired for our bout." Striding out of the room, he turned and waited for her by the door until she meandered after him. When she caught up, he turned and started making his way through the airship. "Is your face horribly disfigured?"

"Hmm? Nah. Why?"

"You retained your mask. Remove it. I would see the face of the strangest savage in all the lands." Glancing over his shoulder, he watched her for several paces as she reached up to feel along the painted wood. 

"Let's see. Telling you it's tied to my _faith_ isn't going to make you let the matter lie. Guess I'll have to just tell you that if you beat me tomorrow, I'll let you see what's underneath and pay up what I owe from the last match." Stretching and tucking her hands behind her head, she tilted her masked face and quirked a hidden brow. "I'm a Warrior of Light. That's what we're called, when we've got the ancient savage magic we do."

"You say this as if there are many."

"There sort've is. I'm a bit different from them, as I said. Most of the people who witnessed first hand the destruction Bahamut wrought and managed to _survive_ it has a chance to be one. Mine was tweaked, though, making me more of a 'the' than an 'a'." A shrug rolled her shoulders before she dropped her hands. "Your great-grandfather knows a bit about that."

"Hence why you visited him on his deathbed?" Looking ahead to make sure he was still going the right way, Zenos turned to walk down a side corridor. A set of doors opened, and she blinked as she followed him into what was undoubtedly his personal rooms aboard the airship. 

"Well, no, not really. I'm going to tell you a story while you order whatever it is you're getting us for a meal." Making her way over to the desk, she hopped up onto the flat surface and swung her legs. He eyed her, before turning to a panel beside the door and activating he comm system. She gave him a moment, sorting her thoughts, and nodding to herself once she knew what she was going to tell him. "Okay. So, once upon a time, your great-grandfather crossed paths with someone who ended up being called the 'Wraith'." 

"You tell me the story of my great-grandmother." Zenos sounded almost bored as he crossed the distance and then sat down heavily in the desk chair. An elbow was settled on the armrest before he propped his cheek against it, watching her through half-lidded eyes. 

"I _do_. She had the ancient savage magic too, but Solus was able to muffle it enough that she could live with him, fight at his side and all sorts've things." The admittance came easily, and Priscilla canted her head to the side. "When she died, all of her things were put into a room. All the keys to that room were melted down into a dagger, and given to her son. Your grandfather. I don't know what happened to it after that, but after she died Solus changed. He became cold. He didn't laugh, didn't smile, nothing. It was like it was a job."

The Garlean Legatus narrowed his eyes. 

"Or so I'd believe, at least. Some time probably went by before he started looking thoughtful, and taking more personal approaches to expanding Garlemald's borders. He was looking for someone, you know. Someone who would've been a baby." The Warrior grimaced, and shook her head. "And then one day, he stopped and went all horrible again. Well, horrible in my books. Probably not horrible in _yours_. He was looking for his reborn Aileth."

"You infer that you are his reborn Aileth." Flat disbelief coloured Zenos' tone, until she gave him two thumbs up. "Truly, you believe yourself such?"

"More than that. I _know_ it." She shrugged a shoulder at him. "It's part of why my ancient savage magic is a bit different from most folk's. Whether you believe me or not, the hereditary battle-madness inherent to the Galvus line is my fault."

"What was your son named, then."

Priscilla grimaced, and shook her head. "I died bringing him into this world, and I held him victoriously to Solus even as I bled out. I never had the chance to."

"And yet, you seem to know what happened after." The other hand came up to gesture lazily at her. "Come now, your story lacks substance."

"I don't know for sure if he did that stuff. It's all guesswork based on what I know of him, Zenos. I tried not to ask him about during the little bit of time we had in Garlemald." Leaning forward to settle her elbows against her knees, she sighed. "I didn't sneak into Garlemald to kill him. Why do you think he made Varis stand down? Why he made sure the bullet lodged in my leg was dug out and I was tended to by the medics, instead of letting me bleed out? It's an awful lot to go through for a complete stranger."

"You say he recognized you, then." A thoughtful frown crossed his features as she nodded. Reports had indicated that the Founding Father had surged out of his bed for no apparent reason and rushed to the throne room, snarling and demanding the doors be opened for him. It was passing strange, unless... "Let us say then that you are indeed Aileth, reborn. Why return to Garlemald on the eve of his death? Why not sooner?"

Priscilla blew out a sigh, shoulders slumping. 

"Because I didn't _know_ until about two, three weeks beforehand. It was hidden from me, just like I was hidden from him."


	18. Chapter 18

When their meal arrived, it did so on a two-layered cart. When he answered the door and pulled it in, she rightly guessed that the reason why had something to do with the fact that it was to feed two of them. Still, as she snagged a massive bowl of stew for herself she idly noted how Zenos was eating with an utterly detached, indifferent look on his face. He didn't seem to care what it was, simply eating it because his body needed it. Priscilla reminded herself that this was a Zenos that she hadn't had a lot of time to work with, and as she buttered a slice of bread to dip into her stew, she nodded towards him. 

"Someone worked hard to make that for you, y'know. They're probably quaking in their boots, hoping you don't hate it and don't go down and kill them." 

He looked thoughtful at that, before sighing. "Visiting them to instill fear into their hearts is an old, stale thing."

"That's not-, eesh..." Shaking her head, the Warrior pointed her bread at his own bowl of stew. "Look, I'm saying if you find the food bland or boring, either cook it yourself or appreciate that it's hard to make food for someone who could kill you with a distracted backhand and really think about what you're putting in your mouth. Someone worked hard on it, and being a chef is a whole 'nother type of a fight for survival."

The Garlean Legatus fixed her with a long, blank stare as she quirked a brow.

* * *

Priscilla grinned behind her mask as she ducked the shards of the bowl that Zenos hurled at her. They had long since left his chambers, and torn through the main passageway and into the mess hall. As she straightned, the Warrior snagged the nearest thing on hand (one poor soldiers helmet) and hurled it back. 

"You throw like a lalafell, Zenos! Are your arms broken, or just your fingers!" 

"Stand down men. This foe is my prey and mine _alone_." A chair that had been ripped from where it had previously been bolted to the floor was lifted to swat the helmet away until he took the chair in both hands and lobbed it end over end towards her. She dove to the side, cackling as she scurried under a table and then popped back up to gesture rudely at the Legatus. "Really, are we children, then?"

"Might as well be! Nobody's introduced you to the concept of _playing_ before this, so it seems its up to me to teach you what it means." It took her a moment to try and find something to throw before she cackled and and scrambled away when he vaulted over the table. A running jump had her kicking off from the wall and snagging one of the crossbeams in the ceiling, pulling her feet up after so that she could watch him as he thought about how best to follow her. "Well? Come on. Strapping lad like you should be able to get up here no problem. Look at this place from another perspective."

Zenos eyed her and the eyed one of the tables nearby. Stepping up onto it, he reached and measured by eye the few fulms between his hand and the crossbar. Crouching slightly, the blond swordsman jumped and caught the metal before hauling himself up so that he could hook his heel over the edge a little ways down. Twisting, he glanced at where she had been and frowned at her absence until a whistle caught his attention.

The Warrior waved from where she had set the chair he had thrown at her up on a distant table, and waved as she lounged. 

"So slow! I thought you were going to thump me for daring to tell you to appreciate the effort that went into the food prepared for you?"

"You are not my mother-" Grunting as he dropped down, he eyed her as she snorted.

"And you're not much of a hunter if you can't catch little old -me-. C'mon, I know you could've climbed that _loads_ faster-" Priscilla kicked her chair back and rolled as it dumped her onto the ground. Even without his Resonant, Zenos had been able to cross a great deal of terrain particularly quickly when he'd had a mind to, and she cackled as he kicked her previous seat clear of the table. Scrambling along the ground, she heard a series of thumps before abruptly reversing her direction as familiar booted feet landed just ahead of where she had been about to pass under. As fun as it was, she was going to have to come up with a plan to _win_ soon, while they were both in a relatively good mood.

Both, because the blond swordsman was grinning just as madly as she was. A dive put her under another table, and she kicked at the latches that kept it stiff and in place to disengage them before surging upwards to drive the table into her pursuer. He caught it, naturally, and she threw her weight against it. They were even for a moment, until she dropped and heaved upwards, tilting the table to sweep his legs out from under him. Heat crackled through her as she worked to dump him and the table behind her, and then brushed her hands off. And then paused.

The heat that had flared through her remained, and _grew_.

Priscilla spent a moment studying the way her hands had turned red, before trying to mutter something and collapsing towards the ground.

* * *

Zenos spun around the overturned table on his knees, comment about how rare it was to be physically picked up by _anyone_ dying on his lips and one arm outstretched to stop the Warrior from hitting the ground face-first. Warmth radiated through the black syntheweave fabric, feverish in it's intensity, and as he watched her skin slowly turned from pale to an almost sunburnt red. Eyes narrowing, he surged up to his feet and hooked an arm around her waist to effortlessly pick her up as he looked towards one of the few remaining spectators in the room. 

"Send word to the Medicus. I will bring our guest to them, but they are to prepare."

"For what, my lord?"

The Garlean Legatus shook his head and swept towards the door. An ugly feeling had bloomed in his chest, and he tried to puzzle out what it might have been as he strode through the halls he and this 'Warrior of Light' had danced through perhaps half a bell previous. It wasn't _disappointment_ , he was familiar with that one. Something to ponder another day, he decided, even as he turned his mind towards the mess hall. 

To be physically, bodily lifted from the ground, even with the leverage of the table was impressive. With the added weight of a table, it was more so but only mildly. Had something gone wrong with the ancient savage magic she claimed to possess? Certainly, it could be the only possible explanation as to why someone as slight as she was could have performed such a feat. If she intended to become a minimum of four times stronger... 

A grin spread slowly across his face as he briefly considered the possible hunts in the future, before shaking his head. She had to survive to claim this strength she sought, and the first step to such was determining what had gone wrong and whether his Praefectus Medicorum could _fix_ it. The doors of the medbay slid open and he smoothly made his way through to find some of the field medics were filling a tub with ice and water. 

He would have to make a note to remember who it was that had sent word ahead of him. He would be loathe to accidentally kill someone intelligent enough to provide the details required for the Medicorum to begin taking countermeasures. The Warrior was dumped ass-first into the tub, before he took a handful of her hair and hauled her somewhat upright in an effort to keep her from drowning. 

Zenos brushed his fingers against the mask, scraping the nail of his thumb against the paint and watching as it flaked around one of the holes she looked through in favour of ignoring the bustle around him. Her temperature was taken, in addition to a sample of blood. Pulse, responses (or lack thereof) and reflexes were checked before the blond swordsman noted that one of the younger field medics had settled across the tub from him and was pressing on her nails and then counting the seconds to see how long it took for them to return to their current colour. What struck him as odd was how _tenderly_ the medic was holding her hand. 

It seemed out of place, and for a moment blue eyes met pale brown and realized the younger man hadn't immediately looked away. 

"Are you two acquainted?" 

"I watched when the two of you first arrived after boarding the ship, my lord." The words were coupled with an averted gaze. 

"Truly? Well then, 'tis of no consequence. In your expert opinion, what is the affliction and what is the cure?"

The field medic mulled his words over for a moment until he unceremoniously dropped the Warrior's hand into the ice-laden water. "Savage magic afflicts her. We who have known the teachings and training of Garlemald lack the means to aid her beyond mitigating the perceived effects. If your lordship wishes her to recover, perhaps dumping her in Vesper Bay so that she can be treated by other savages is the best course of action."

"To Vesper Bay, then. Run along, to send word to the bridge." The smaller man stood and saluted, and almost made it to the door before Zenos called after him. "What was your name, Medicus?"

"Iacobus jen Jorgund." A prompt salute was offered, before Iacobus turned back to the door and fled.

* * *

When the elezen surfaced from the library, Moenbryda found it curious that he didn't head to his rooms. That was the usual path, really. But no, surprise surprise, Urianger made his way to the doors that led _outside,_ one hand cupped against his ear to better hear whatever was being said to him through the linkpearl that he was rarely, if ever seen without these days. She was so stunned that it was all she could do to call after him and then, when the doors closed behind him, give chase. 

She found him standing at the end of a pier, staring intently into the water a hundred or so fulms out. It had begun to churn, until a Garlean airship lifted ponderously out of the bay. A cargo door opened, and the scholar braced himself as two Garleans made their way to the edge of the doorway with a third figure between them. Whatever discussion they had, it was brief and covered by the shouts of alarm from the settlement proper. 

The elezen reached, and the motionless figure was deposited roughly into his grasp before the door closed and the ship started to sink once more. All she could see were boots and a red mask of some kind as he turned and started back towards the Waking Sands at a brisk pace. 

"Urianger?"

"Pray, we shall speaketh anon. She is dying."

Moenbryda nodded, and hurried to get the door. 


	19. Chapter 19

_"...sickness, akin to a poisoned state..."_

She would have known that voice anywhere. Waking up felt more akin to swimming through taffy than anything else, and as she surfaced she became immediately aware of two things. One, she felt like she had recently recovered from heatstroke. Which, groggily, she thought was about right but couldn't put her finger quite on why. The second thing was that there was a layer of pleasant coolness that covered her in her entirety. 

Heavy lids lifted with some difficulty, and the ceiling of the room given to her in the Waking Sands. Tilting her head, she noted Hades was floating nearby, youthful countenance focused on an angle away from her and smiled slightly as he twitched when she tried to call his name through the aether. She never _had_ been any good at it. Still, as he looked down Urianger's hairline drifted into view, prompting a confused and largely incoherent mumble from Priscilla. 

"Ah. Thine eyes doth open. Welcome, Warrior of Light, to the realm of the living."

A confused sound garbled it's way out of her, and she furrowed her brows. 

"Oh for the love of..." Fingers snapped, drawing her focus as the world continued to resolve itself around her. He was sitting on the side of the bed, she realized, and one of her hands came up to sluggishly feel at her face for her mask. It was gone, and she grumbled at him with a sour look. "I am incredibly limited in how I might directly assist _you_ , specifically, but I _can_ aid those around you with a modicum of freedom. Fret not, your mask is safe enough for the time being."

A cup of water appeared in her peripheral vision, and she slowly tilted her head and obligingly took a sip.

"You rather catastrophically unbalanced your own aether. It seems that your Mother's Blessing shielded you from some measure of tempering, but was unable to keep you from all but immolating yourself. You ought to be thankful that I just so happened to have taken one of the field medics for a vessel so that I might keep track of you." He leaned in, giving her an expectant look. Something that could have passed for a confused 'thank you' made it's way past her lips, and he rolled his eyes. "Do you even realize how much of a hassle it is for me to take an already occupied vessel? Tch... We shall try this again when you are more coherent."

Just slightly, Priscilla stuck her tongue out at him before rasping what would have been an annoyed question at any other time.

"Three days." One gloved hand waved idly, and she tracked the movement sluggishly. "During which you very nearly reached an internal temperature that would have rather _literally_ cooked you from the inside out in a matter of moments, as opposed to the slow process that the elezen worked to fix." 

The words were mulled over, and she grimaced before feebly reaching out and making grabby hands at the Ascian. Her efforts were met with a pause, a quirked brow and then a pair of rolled eyes before he turned and flopped back onto the bed next to her. Reflexively, the Warrior turned to face him and buried her face in his shoulder and was asleep almost before she had finished throwing an arm over his ribs. 

* * *

The road was sometimes wide, others as narrow as a disused goat trail up a steep mountain. It was _familiar_ , though, and Priscilla walked confidently as she traveled. She had been there before, she knew that for a fact, but as she looked back everything seemed different. Trees that had once stood on the right side of the road, now stood on the left or were absent altogether, replaced by new ones that she didn't recognize. 

Her confidence wavered, but she turned to face forward and squared her shoulders. 

Plains, deserts, hills and forests. The path was the same but there were all these new plants and things lining the sides. Sometimes, she found herself talking to people that traveled with her, only to turn and realize she was alone. But she knew she had to continue, and so she did. 

A crossroads appeared ahead, and when she stopped at it she took a long, careful look down each. The knowledge that if she picked one to try and scout it out, she wouldn't be able to return to that point settled into her bones. Fog and low-hanging clouds hid the skyline from her, and she frowned as she realized she couldn't see far enough to know which path was the _right_ one. 

An echo of herself stepped out of her, stepped forward, and she blinked as she recognized the plain black robes of Amaurot. Each step was slow, _exhausted_ , and with a sigh the phantom made her way to the center of the crossroads. A cursory glance was given to each path before she turned left and started to pick her way down the path. Words stuck in her throat, a question locked behind teeth as she reached out to try and get the ghost's attention before they made it to the mist and faded from view.

Another image stepped out of her. Another familiar one that she recognized. Her black jacket, the scarf woven from the hair of a Garlean vessel and those two horrible black blades all stood out in sharp relief, before the figure shrugged and turned right. There was an air of unconcerned adventure to her, and once more a hand was reached out as a plea for understanding found itself lodged in her throat. 

The figment paused mid-stride, before turning slightly as if to start looking over her shoulder. A laugh could be heard, before the fragment tucked her hands behind her head and carried on with ease before vanishing into the mists. Her hand dropped to her side. There was only one path left. 

A single step forward was all it took. 

As her foot touched down, the path turned to mud and silt, before she sank up to her knee. Struggling, she hauled herself out and forced herself to take another, and then another, until she looked up and realized there were paths all around her. Like being in a house of mirrors, except each vision of herself was ever so slightly different. One figure became two as a path split, and then again, and again until she couldn't see them.

Was she on the wrong path? They all seemed to be able to move so freely. None of them appeared to be struggling-

But they _were_ , she realized. None of them were walking pre-made paths. The roads before them were of their own making, and no two of them were the same. While a few that she could see were taking brief breaks, they always inevitably resumed making their ways towards...

Towards what. The thought rang through her, and for a moment everything went still. Faces turned towards her, all of them waiting. Waiting for _her_ , she realized. There was something there, something that she had brushed the surface of. What were they all working to complete? What was their _goal?_

No, that didn't feel right. They all had the same goal, but it was something they carried with them. It wasn't something they traveled to or from. 

_How do you know where you're going?_

The words resounded through her as they escaped from behind the locked teeth of each of her doppelgangers, and it was only after a long moment of thought that she realized she didn't. None of them did. She never _had,_ not really. Every time the amulet had sent her back, things had turned out differently until she had fallen back on just doing whatever she could.

Knowing where she was going wasn't important, only that she _went_. With that realization, movement resumed around her as the reflections, however cracked they might have been turned back to their chosen paths and resumed picking their ways along them. Putting her hands into the mud she had sunk into, she pulled herself out and lifted her head. The road before her was deceptively smooth, but she wouldn't know the truth of it until she walked it.

Priscilla lifted one foot, and took a step forward.

* * *

Kweh warked at the Warrior as she carried a yawning, drowsy and lanky Emet-Selch over to the bird and settled him in the saddle. It was somewhat awkward, considering he had worked on aging his vessel somewhat closer to the age she was used to seeing him. She had stolen some of Urianger's shapeless robes and tucked her mask in place once she had recovered it from the Ascian. It was dark, and everyone except possibly Thancred and a few others who either worked better at night or had lost all touch with the concept of time itself were probably in bed. 

It was the perfect time for her to leave. Grabbing the reins, she led the chocobo out of the stables and around to the gate that would let them through to the rest of Thanalan. She paused there, before turning to look back across the plaza to the Waking Sands. 

A smile lifted her lips at the corners, before she turned and swung up into the saddle behind the Architect. He sighed, but obligingly scooted up to make room before leaning back against her and closing his eyes. It was a silent ride through the tunnel and then out through Horizon, and the Warrior pushed Kweh until the sun started to flood the world with a false dawn. By then, she was able to find a spot and settled own to camp for a bit. 

"I have a question."

Pausing as she unrolled a blanket, Priscilla glanced back to the Ascian that had remained in the saddle before turning back to her task of spreading the blanket out on the ground. "Is it why we snuck out of there like thieves in the night?"

"No, but I will admit that such is one of them. You seem particularly keen on avoiding the Scions, for all that you claimed them to be your first friends." A yawn punctuated Emet-Selch's words, before he finally swung down from Kweh's back so that he could stretch out on the blanket. "I noticed in your fight with Titan that you would periodically pull on the aether stored within the crystal from Ifrit. And yet, when you did so aboard the ship Zenos commanded, you inundated yourself with it instead."

"Ah. So your question's what was I thinking, or is it how did I misjudge the amount." The Chocobo was led to settle down by the Ascian, before the Warrior stretched out nearby and used the bird's flank as a pillow. "I'd forgotten for a moment that I don't have the countering water crystal. Usually, I can stay pretty balanced but pulling on the different pieces became reflexive for me. Only thing I can think of is that I'd done it too often, and there was a lingering amount left in my system that hadn't been evened out by the opposite type."

"Until you get the rest of the crystals of light, you will have to be more attentive to your own state." 

"Hard to do when I can't tell my own state." A sheepish grin was offered to the sky as she folded her hands behind her head. "I can't see my own aether, after all. I've just got gut feelings."

"Will you at least be more careful, then?" The Ascian folded his arms and glanced over, frowning as she shrugged. "Priscilla-"

"I can't make any promises. Everything I'm going to have to do is going to be dangerous, Hades, and there are going to be a lot of times when I can't afford to hold anything back. Until your Tempering gets sorted, I can't directly rely on you. I've secured Urianger's help because he's a secretive bastard and understands that sometimes, certain things have to happen the same way even if it's not pleasant." A hand was waved idly, before she tilted her head to look over at him. "To save the first, Minfillia -has- to get sent there and has to get sent there for the right reasons. That means I -have- to get Lahabrea out of the picture somehow, so that Elidibus drags Ardbert and the others here. To get him that desperate, I -have- to stop three or four attempts to prime this world to the aspect of light. To turn Gaius to my side, I _have_ to let Lahabrea start up the Heart of Sabik, which means knocking down primals so that he makes them get re-summoned stronger. To resolve the issues in Ishgard, I _have_ to make sure Nidhogg gets incited and then end the Dragonsong war. And to be able to do -any- of that, I've got to identify the motivations and, in some cases, _be_ those motivations. Which means taking risks. Or. _Or_." 

The Warrior took a deep breath, before letting it out and continuing. "-Or-, I have to throw that entire plan out the window, start from scratch and figure out how to solve these problems without any of that happening. Which would save a whole lot of lives, but is made harder by the fact that I don't know what I'm doing. What I want to do, is find a way to lessen the hold your Tempering has on you and then set you against me. Like a big game of chess, where you set up obstacles and I knock them down. But I don't know how close that comes to actively helping me, so until I figured anything out I've been working on waiting until the pieces of my Blessing are made available and going for them. _But_ I have to be careful about that, because they won't light if I'm doing it just for the power, and not for the purpose of -helping- people."

Emet-Selch mulled her words over for a moment and pushed himself up. "It all seems so very unnecessarily complicated, when you phrase it like that. Where does Zenos factor in? You seem to have taken a very specific interest in him."

"Zenos is a wildcard who's only motivation, later on, was to fight me because I was a challenge and made him -feel- things. Enjoyment, thrill of the hunt and the like. He's also my great-grandkid too, you know." The mask was pulled idly to the side so that she could see him better, and tilted her head as he turned to study her. 

"What you seek to do, is similar results but with fewer unnecessary casualties correct? Such is also your issue with the Ardor?" 

"Yeah. And I get it, people -have- to die. It's part of the _current_ natural cycle of things, even if in Amaurot folks only died if they wanted to, being essentially immortal and all." A grimace creased her face before smoothing as he shifted to settle down next to her. Already, she missed being taller than him as he gently eased her mask entirely off, setting it to the side. "But people have to -live-, too. The Shards can be rejoined to the Source without killing everything. I've _seen_ it."

"Or so you believe you have." The words were mildly amused, and Priscilla rolled her eyes in response before plopping her hand against his face. 

"Memory's a funny thing in that believing you've seen something is almost exactly the same as having seen it. No memory - excepting your own, of course - is perfect." Lifting her free hand to her own face, she used it to stifle her yawn and closed her eyes. "Make yourself useful, will you? Keep watch while I get a bit've a nap in and make sure nobody kills my bird. I'm still tired from recovery."

He answered with the ghost of a smile against her palm before he tenderly collected her hand and tucked it against his chest.


	20. Chapter 20

They spoke briefly after the Warrior awoke. From there, Emet-Selch opened a rift and stepped through in a bid to try and find the singular person he absolutely did _not_ want to talk to. A plan had formulated in his mind, after all, and while he didn't -want- to do what he intended, she had agreed that it was necessary. 

That left Priscilla to meander around Thanalan, working on the woes and of the wealthy and skint alike. She started at the Silver Bazaar, before working her way east through the Hammers and Scorpion Crossing. She took care of bandits, of theft, settled disputes and made sure loans were paid back. It was two and a half long weeks of working all the way across to Gridania, before she felt she should go back to La Noscea to make sure everything was still good there. 

It was there that she heard rumours of Serpent Reavers, and after some asking around she realized that it was Sastasha that was being referenced. From there, she gathered Kweh and headed down to where she knew the seagrot was located. It was unusually quiet when she arrived, and proceeded with caution. Slowly, carefully, but most importantly as silently as she could get her bird to be, the two of them picked their way through the cavern. 

The Cattery gave her the most information. The coeurl corpse was sprawled on it's side, and a cursory inspection of the wounds confirmed that it was one part blunt trauma, two parts magic that had killed him. From the viscous black that had oozed from his mouth and the height of the attacks, she felt safe to say it was an arcanist of some kind. She hoped it was more than one, considering the numbers she remembered ahead though she wasn't enough of a tracker to pull footprints from bare stone. 

Blood on the claws confirmed that whomever it was, Chopper hadn't gone down without a fight. That complicated things, because it told her the relative strength of those who had beaten the feline down. When a fight takes forever, after all, it's a sign that not enough damage was being done per strike. It was something the Warrior had always held a certain amount of personal pride in. Certainly, she might not strike -often-, but she tried to pick her blows and put enough into them that she wouldn't have to spend all day hacking at a single enemy.

The Dead Man's Drink was littered with bodies by the time she picked her way through the caves. One of the tables sat broken, partially leaned on it's side with arrows marring the surface. A barrier, a physical block to take cover behind it looked it, and Priscilla shook her head as she noted a few arrows with bloodied tips scattered around. Dry, which meant whomever had removed them was at least a minute or so ahead of her. 

Without being able to hear the sounds of fighting, that meant longer. Habitually, the Warrior went through the pockets of the fallen and grimaced as she realized they were already picked clean. Pushing herself up, she made her way through the Waverider Gate and the Rambade. 

Once she passed into the Sultana's lap, she began to hear the sounds of shouting. Hanging a hard left, Priscilla hugged the wall and bid Kweh to hold his ground as she scouted ahead. There, Captain Madison with the sahagin, Denn. And there, in front of them, splashing about in the water as they gawked, prodded at the water with spears and cheered...

Two heads of white hair. 

Anger flared into life in the pit of her belly, bright and hot as an ember as the Warrior threw stealth to the wind. The first she hit in the crowd died silently. The second jostled a man in front of him, and the third was the one who turned and managed to get out a startled shout. Heads turned as the crowd fell back from her. 

She couldn't pursue in all directions, but it didn't end up mattering. The sahagin stared at her before turning and hurling his spear into the water. One of the elezen cried out before it ended in a burble as they went under, and Priscilla dove in after them without a second thought. 

The water was cold. It was the first thing she noticed as she plunged in, the second being the way Alphinaud was struggling to kick himself upwards with one arm around his sister as the dark water around her clouded with her blood. The third was the other shapes that flit around them, more sahagin, and the Warrior sheathed one sword so that she could get a grip on Alisaie and haul her and her brother -out-. 

Not up, out. Away from the shore with the Reavers but towards the opening that led to the wider Rhotano Sea. One hand swiped to keep the beastmen away until she rolled to haul the two of them up to the surface. It wasn't far enough out, so she made sure they surfaced with her back to the shore. 

Both twins sputtered and gasped for air as arrows flit around them. She didn't have _time_ , and hauled them both under so that she could drag them along and only have to fend off the spears from below. Twenty fulms. Ten. Three. 

Hauling the two of them up onto a ledge that housed a torch and marked one part of the seaward entrance to the grotto, Priscilla started to pull herself out until a webbed hand curled around her ankle and pulled. She didn't fight against it, instead twisting and curling to hack the head off one of the spears coming for her. They seemed to think the water would steal enough of the momentum of her swings to make them useless. 

They were wrong. 

* * *

Alphinaud finally stemmed his sister's bleeding as they huddled on the ledge. The water around them churned and frothed, obscured and coloured by dark blood. Much as Alisaie mentioned something about going in to _help_ , he managed to convince her against it and together they settled to keep an eye out in the event that anything came up to attack them again. 

He didn't want to admit it, but they were both exhausted after what felt like hours of swimming. It was only reminding his sister that she had lost a lot of blood that had her settling down, wobbly but attentive. It wasn't long after that the waters stilled. They exchanged a glance before the surface broke and a red-masked figure surged out, sputtering and coughing. Together, they helped their savior up onto the ledge and then leaned back as she let out a shrill whistle. 

"You... Wait a moment. Aren't you the woman who we spoke with in the Solar?" 

"Yep." The mask was shifted so that she could spit out a mouthful of water, grimacing at it's taste and then tucking the mask back into place. "There's still more down there, but I _think_ I killed the big one. Kweh'll take you both along the wall while I go back in and give you some cover."

"But-"

"Look, neither of you get to die today. I haven't kept you guys out of the worst of this just to watch you throw your lives away." A wark underscored her words as the chocobo swam up to the ledge, looking rather like a dark blue duck. She didn't give them a chance to reply, muttering to the bird before taking a breath and diving back in. They shared another glance, before one at a time they clambered into the saddle. 

The chocobo paddle-kicked his way out further, making better time than they had and nervously eyeing the water as _things_ started to float up around them. Arms, hands, bits of fin. Legs, the wooden parts of weapons and then eventually a red mask. The bird collected that last one, and swam harder. 

Finally, they made it to a path that would take them out of the water and up along the cliff, whereupon Kweh turned and warked at the water. It didn't take long before there was movement in the depths, and the Warrior surfaced once more with a gasp. Alphinaud dropped down out of the saddle to try and help her out of the water. 

"You're injured!"

"I'll be fine." She waved him off when his hands came away red with blood, bfore grimacing and wiggling her nose. Reaching up to pat along her head, her grimace deepened until the chocobo dropped the mask onto the ground in front of her. Kweh crooned and gently butted at her with his head as she scooped up the mask and made it to her feet. "My mask! You clever bird. Alright. You two wanna fill me on on why in the seven hells you're -here-?"

"We heard that Serpent Reavers were sighted..." Alphinaud's expression slowly fell as Priscilla gave him a withering glare. She only looked away to fish a replacement strap from one of the bird's saddlebags. "... We were doing just fine until they overran our position."

" _You_ can't swim, and you thought Sastasha was a good place to start heroing? And what about you, Alisaie. Reckless as always, did you give your brother no choice but to cover you as you made a stupid decision?" The Warrior's words were scathing, and both twins flinched at it before she made a face and sighed. "Sorry, I... Here I thought it was a well equipped group of adventurers when it's you two. Alphinaud's an alright healer, but Alisaie you don't have the patience for it. You'd make a better red mage." 

"Red...?"

"Certainly, we bit off more than we could chew but we cannot simply let the evils of the realm be." 

"Alphy, you're a _diplomat_. Your sister's the better fighter between the two of you." Strap repaired, Priscilla tucked the mask over her face and adjusted it before turning to face the twins. "I thought I was about to _lose_ both of you. I'm not saying heroing is _wrong_ , but I am saying that expecting the two of you, plus one or two carbuncles isn't -enough-. Even if one's topaz and one's ruby. It's dangerous, and going off just the two of you isn't..." 

She trailed off, abruptly remembering that Thancred was moonlighting as a _rogue_ currently, not a gunbreaker. Opening her mouth, she started to mention the Crystal Braves and then let those words die in her mouth as well. Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself that they were essentially strangers, and felt her shoulders slump as she let it out. 

"... It doesn't matter. Just... Be more careful, yeah?" 

* * *

They had questions. She pointedly stayed silent as they made their way to Aleport, hauling herself into the saddle once it came into view. She didn't feel like going into detail about what her 'prophecies' had shown her. Instead, she waved them off and nudged the chocobo into a canter to leave them both behind. Once she was half way to Swiftperch, Priscilla veered Kweh off to the side and dropped down so that she could dig through a pocket and pull out what had caused her to remain under the water for so long. 

She almost hadn't believed it. The glimmer of blue had surprised her and almost cost her head as she ducked just a fraction of a second too late. Instead, the incoming spear had clipped off her mask and knocked it free. It was only when her bird's feet had left the water that she dove down to dig it out from where it was caught between some rocks. 

The crystal of light gleamed with an internal blue glow, and Priscilla sat down by the edge of the road as she cradled it in her lap. It wasn't long before she felt herself drawn into it, and closed her eyes. Opening them showed a familiar landscape of swirling blues. 

_< <Hear... Feel... Think...>>_

Silver scrawled outwards from her feet as it took on the circular pattern of what she associated with her Blessing. The blue crystal shimmered, vanishing from her grasp and materializing within one of the outer circles with a burst of light. Everything went dark, leaving her as the only floating point of illumination until motes of blue materialized in her periphery. 

_< <Crystal bearer...>>_

The Warrior tried to find her voice. Tried to call out, to speak, and found herself frustrated at the inability to do so. 

_< <I am Hydaelyn. All made one.>>_

A piece of crystal drifted up before her, and she would have grit her teeth if she was able to. 

_< <A light there once was that shone throughout this realm... yet is hath since grown dim. And as it hath faltered, so hath Darkness risen up in it's stead, presaging an end to life. For the sake of all, I beseech thee: deliver us from this fate.>>_

More and more pieces of crystal lifted into view, settling into a ring as she finally managed to hum out a sound. It resonated through the aether around her, and as Hydaelyn floated up and halted within the ring, Priscilla fought to make herself understandable. 

~~_< <Hdn, ynnvve->>_ ~~

Pain lanced through her, before a crystalline ringing filled the air and soothed it. 

_< <Thou canst speak? Curious. But to produce such notes, thy pieces resonate and crack among one another. Thou art incapable of true speech, wounded as thou art. Go now, and know that in thy hands, lies the fate of the Star.>>_

Priscilla opened her eyes, and cursed at the missed chance to ask questions as she found herself sitting by the side of the road.


	21. Chapter 21

"You do realize that if my burden was anything _but_ the truth," A drawling voice drew Priscilla from her thoughts, and her head came up as she snapped her gaze towards the rift that opened nearby. "None of this would _work_."

"Hades!" She sprung to her feet, surging over to throw her arms around him and laugh. "I'm more inclined to think that even without your burden being what it is, it's more the fact that you're -brilliant- that's making this work."

"Yes, yes, do go on. I have exhausted myself and endured many unpleasant things for you, I'll have you know." Sighing, the Ascian slumped against her and draped his arms over her shoulders when she stooped enough to curl her hands over his thighs and lace her fingers under his rump. She picked him up like that, with ease considering he was a handspan of ilms taller than her now, and despite how awkward it might have looked Emet-Selch couldn't bring himself to care. There was a particularly blue sun he could soak up the rays from, and let his eyes drift closed contently. "All that is left, is to determine how smoothly things will go."

"You'll probably be recognizable to other Garleans now, you know." A careful adjustment of his knees was made before the Warrior settled back down with her back against Kweh's flank. They had camped at one of her favourite locations, where another lifetime ago she had been brought for a surprise birthday celebration. "Are we disguising you? What do I need to do."

"Ask me after I've napped for a few hours? The other Ascians can be tiring at the best of times." The words were a muttered protest as he curled an arm around the back of her neck and let his head fall forward over her shoulder.

"Best nap laying down then. If you fall asleep like this, your old knees and hips might not like it in the morning." Her tone was teasing, and he huffed out a quiet grumble. When he made no motion to move from her lap, Priscilla grinned and nudged Kweh so that the bird would shift and scoot out of the way. Reclining, she watched as the Ascian made himself comfortable using her as a pillow and tucked his head against her shoulder. "How long do you want me to let you rest?"

"Hmm... Two bells."

She nodded, and looped an arm around his lower back as his eyes drifted shut. 

* * *

She had painted a picture in his mind as best she could. While it was rough in parts, he had a fairly good grasp of what needed to go where, and _when_. It had meant an awful lot of rushing around the countryside, setting things in motion. He knew the risks of hopping from body to body, both to himself and his plans, but that was _fine_. The times he needed to were few and far between, what with his ability to mold the flesh he resided within into a different shape. 

The most difficult part of it all was convincing the others without lying about his intentions. Even then, he fell back on the phrase 'I am doing this for _you_.' when directly asked. And Lahabrea, oh how he had -asked-. Nettled, really. But it wasn't a lie, not when in the broader scope of things it really was for the other Ascians. 

Even if looking at the Speakers glyph made him want to punch it, he remembered a voice far less jaded and long years spent working to overcome the bitterness that had laid between them. 

The points were laid out in a neat path. She had told him what _could_ happen, but she had also told her how she had reacted to each incident. The same trick wasn't going to work against her twice, but she was right. There were a lot of things that would have to be done to help forge people into the individuals she needed. 

Much as he had wanted Zenos to keep pace at her side ( _Strictly_ to make sure she wouldn't -lose-, not that she was liable to anyways) he pointedly remembered what was needed in Doma. A word here, a casual phrase there and the Ascian had engaged in what would be his most wide-spread manipulation of all. Of _literally_ all, or so he hoped. Elidibus, prone to keeping back and watching to understand a situation might catch on quicker than the others, but the Speaker...

Oh, Lahabrea was a heavily disguised _blessing_ , for what he needed. Smart enough to be skeptical, irritated enough to look into things himself and possessed of enough of a temper that when he reached a certain point in his frustrations that he would bull ahead with whatever he needed to in a pinch. All that the Architect had needed to do was make a snide comment here or there about the Speaker's work and everything had spun out from there. 

It was easy enough to make the Warrior of Light look like a villain who needed to be countered at every turn. It split the focus between the attempts at an eighth Ardor and actively working to make life difficult for her. All that was left now, was to sit back and watch and act like a beacon for Sundered and Unsundered alike as he 'kept an eye' on her. 

Elidibus had been skeptical when Emet-Selch had dragged himself in after the meeting and given them a fraction of his notes on her. But phrasing had been key, as it ever was, and he outright told them that she truly did remember them. It wasn't a lie, and despite their scrutiny his aether had remained utterly smooth and stable without so much as a flinch. When he said he planned to report her actions to them, to keep them appraised of her level of strength, they continued to stare and study before the Speaker had asked him who, exactly, he was doing what he was doing for. 

He wanted to see the Shards returned to the source. He wanted to stay in proximity to Priscilla, because he quite bluntly missed her. He had already sworn oaths that seriously limited any of the ways he could _help_ her, and it wasn't as if he would tell her their plans for the Heart of Sabik. He didn't need to. She already _knew_. 

Not that he said those last two out loud. Knowing them in his heart of hearts helped, though, and so he bore their scrutiny with many an eye roll. Still, the Emissary had remained skeptical. It was to be expected, considering Elidibus had the uncanny ability to read intent hidden behind any number of layers of words. 

It had taken him two weeks to set everything up. Knowing that they didn't have much of a choice (and after he had sworn on his title that he would not, in fact, save her if Lahabrea tried to kill her regardless of how much he _wanted_ to) they finally agreed that he could monitor the latest thorn in their side. There was no question as to why the Warrior of Light would accept his presence and let him openly -spy- on her. They were all aware that, if she truly did have her memories of Amaurot, there would be no separating them. 

He neglected to mention the scope of her memories. It was the only edge he had that would let him properly twist things, and it was better for all parties involved if they believed they dealt with the full knowledge of the defector. After that, he had searched for her aether and hauled himself through a rift to her side, both heavier and lighter than he had felt in decades.

She must have missed him, he mused as he let himself soak up her proximity. It was only to be expected, considering after she had remembered things she had charged across the countryside to find him. His limitations had been accepted and the only thing she wanted from him was his company, the price of which being her ability to trust him. 

It was silly, really. Once, long ago, the others had tried to force him to kill her. Hades had very nearly torn himself apart fighting himself, fighting his tempering, and after that they hadn't dared to ask again. He would not, _could_ not deliberately kill her, no more than he could tear out Zodiark's stamp across his soul. 

But he could inundate his senses with the sharp-edged familiar hues he had craved for far longer than he liked. 

So that's what he did.

* * *

The Sylphs had been meant as a trap for the Warrior of Light. Lahabrea had felt certain she would fall for it, die, and then he could prove to that smug _bastard_ that his plan was going to work. It was, much to his dismay as she walked through the Thousand Maws of Toto-Rak to rescue the sylph without breaking a sweat as Emet-Selch complained about the goo on the floor, not looking good for his plan. She freed the sylph, and then turned to meander off, chatting idly about how if the Ascian didn't _like_ it, he could just float. Kweh was wading through just fine. 

That damned bird. It provided healing, and with all the practice it was getting it was rapidly getting _good_ at it. Whoever had designed chocobo and given them the ability to heal-

Well, that would have been _her_ , wouldn't it. It was with a great deal of bitterness that he moved on to his next plan for Haukke mannor. As she worked her way through Gridania, he watched as she came across the building itself and then _burned it down_. He had been ever so careful to lay bait that would indicate that there were people who could be rescued, in a bid to appeal to her sense of heroism, but instead he was forced to watch as she produced a bag of marshmallows. They were toasted and shared with the Architect, who had promptly asked if she happened to have chocolate and graham crackers. 

With her mask pushed up enough to eat a marshmallow, the vaunted Warrior of Light had grinned and gestured towards the saddlebags before Emet-Selch helped himself to her supplies and made _smores_. 

It was insulting, is what it was. What made it worse was that the Architect made absolutely no motion, no gesture, no _indication_ that he was watching and she _still_ turned to face his general direction to offer him one. It was then that he snarled into the aether and gave Emet-Selch a sharp tug to denote the fact that they needed to -talk-.

**_< <Zodiark's Mercy, tear my arm off why don't you. Can't you see I'm -busy-?>>_ **

**< <Eating -snacks- while my hard work burns mere fulms away? No. I think not. She could not have sensed me if you did not forewarn her somehow. Tell me the truth.>>**

_**< <Oh for the love of... I told you she remembered. Is it so difficult to think that perhaps she has some ability to sense presences in the aether around her? You -are- a fair bit bulkier than you used to** **be. >>** _

**< <-Enough-. I will->>**

~~_< <Yhhnnn cnnn hrrrnnn.>>_ ~~

Lahabrea's aether froze at the somewhat pained vibrations through her aether as she -stared- at him. If he'd had a stomach at that point, he was fairly certain it would have churned, nauseous as she -hurt- herself to speak. Elidibus had said with a sigh she claimed to be essentially blind, deaf and mute. Emet-Selch had said with a shrug that her fragmented state had left her crippled in ways that made him want to _weep_. 

The Speaker had felt the fragile weakness in her voice, and remembered a woman possessed of the strength to keep moving, keep fighting as she threw herself on the monsters spawned by the doom. Welcoming the claws that tore into her hide because she chose to get hurt instead of others. Because, she had claimed with a laugh, that she was made of tougher stuff than any other two members of the Convocation put together.

He turned and left, retreating through the aether to gather his thoughts. 


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please dont judge im writing this one on a tablet in a hospice watching over my sleeping father and out of it mother and accidentally posted before it was done while trying to unbold so i could type emet-selch  
> Edit: finished the chunk. I'm going to... I don't know. Pretend to sleep maybe to prepare for tomorrow I guess.

The next time Lahabrea approached them, he did so largely by lurking in the shadows. He had let his plans for Garuda play out as intended, which was how he found himself sitting next to Emet-Selch as together they watched the chocobo retreat to the edge of the whirlwind for the nth time and spend several long moments healing itself with its meager casting ability as Priscilla made a downright nuisance of herself. He often pitied the Architect his ability to see aether with a great deal of clarity, but as he took stock of the way she almost lazily spun out of the way of another whirlwind he wondered at what be was missing. 

Emet-Selch sipped his coffee, and hummed to himself. 

**< <Do you think she will tire soon?>>**

_**< <Priscilla? No. Your primal, on the other hand, needs work. This would be far more difficult if she could, for example, split into three to flank the Warrior and harass the bird at the same time.>>** _

**< <The mortal is something of a troublesome gnat, I will admit. Did she guess that the manor lacked hostages?>>**

_**< <I could not say. She did not give me an itinerary when we started to travel that day, merely mentioning she had a hankering for a campfire. As I am liable to lose the ability to travel with her as I do should I inquire too deeply into every single thing she deigns to do -something even you can agree would be incredibly irritating, no doubt- I simply presumed she meant a fire whenever she decided to camp.>>** _

**< <I see.>>** Lahabrea shifted slightly as he noticed the way the Warrior gathered herself and coiled, before leaping straight up a good dozen fulms to hack into one of Garuda's wings in passing. **< <She did not mention the destination for the day?>>**

 _ **< <Priscilla and planning tend to interact akin to water and oil. It would take a great deal of work and heat to cause the two to interact in an acceptable manner for long enough to achieve any sort of desirable result.>>**_ The Architect yawned idly as he lounged in mid-air. The coffee in his hand was waved slightly to encompass the fight before them. _ ** <<As** **things stand, I find myself by and large simply attempting to keep up with her. She moves at a pace most Ascians would be unaccustomed to, although the ability to rest as her overgrown quail carts me around has led to some rather enjoyable naps. >>**_

**< <The swords she bears, they are of your make however.>>**

_**< <And designed to snap at the hilt should she choose to block with them. I -am- an Ascian and her technical enemy after all, much as it burns me to be both. Alas. I believe she has very nearly defeated the primal.>>** _

**< <How can you stand to be near her, I wonder. How can you stand to stare at that, and look past the half-dead state of her?>>**

Emet-Selch shifted to scrutinize the Speaker, looking for anything that might give him a hint about whether the question was born of malice or honest curiosity. After a long moment, as Priscilla collected a glowing crystal from the body, he decided it was curiosity. As the crystal vanished, he hummed idly and looked back towards the disintegrating primal.

 _**< <I remember what she was, and I have tracked the progress of her soul throughout the ages. Through each and every rejoining, she has grown in strength and continued to follow the same patterns and trends as she did when she was -whole-. She has mentioned, in passing, it was once said that to sacrifice those who are loved in the present to return those who lived in the past is unacceptable.>> **_Visions of a landscape viewed from Azys Lla, a complete, whole source and the matter of fact way she said that it would have only taken a generation or two for the souls to recover, shuffling back together properly flit through his mind. An intangible dream that felt more real and possible than anything else after thousands of years of slogging through Ardor after Ardor, and he let a smile twitch the corners of his lips upwards. **_< <And yet, she has also mentioned that, were it possible to prevent those on the Source from dying as the Shards are shuffled together, that it would be simply a matter of time before the souls of the inhabitants were whole. That they too, were the people of the world we knew, even if they did not remember such.>>_**

 **< <Tell me then, what -wisdom- did she offer, for the souls who yet dwell within** **Zodiark? >>** Sarcasm finally laced the words of the Speaker as he scoffed and pulled his aether tight about him. Until, that was, he noticed the Architect's expression. **< <She spoke of some plan then.** **What would she know. She is a cracked, broken thing. >>**

**_< <That she is. And yet, I have weighed her words and found them not entirely without merit. The problem being, of course, that it involves something that none of -us- are going to like. A blasphemy of the greatest proportions.>>_ **

Lahabrea glowered, looking towards where the Warrior was arguing with some of the beastmen who had finally come out and cursed her for slaying their god. **< <Elidibus was informed of this, I take it. Hence your recent spat with him.>>**

 _ **< <That, and the fact that you continue to threaten her demise. While I cannot interfere, I do not -like- that you seem to believe such is necessary.>>**_ Emet-Selch tutted, and finished his coffee. **_< <If the life of our lord is the price of the return of our friends, our family and our loved ones, would it not behoove us to at the very least consider whether or not a compromise might be reached? 'Tis certainly more progress than any of us have made in our thousands of years.>>_**

**< <She gave you a method, then. Did she speak on what will take his place as our counter to the Doom?>>**

The former Garlean Emperor let his shoulders slump as he sighed. **_< <She did, in fact, but is searching for alternatives considering she knows full well that none of us will like it any more than the prospect of the death of our Lord. In the meantime, she is quite determined to single-handedly solve the problems that plague the Star, both natural and Ascian-sourced.>>_**

**< <With you along for the ride.>>**

Emet-Selch turned and smirked at the Speaker before he started to drift over to where the Warrior of Light was clambering into the saddle so that she could flee from the incoming horde. 

**_< <What can I say? She -missed-me.>>_ **


	23. Chapter 23

Priscilla finally knew when they were when, in the middle of the night, her linkpearl woke her. it ran twice, and she answered it with a yawn to the distant sounds of shouting and closer, harsh breathing. A shout of 'what have you there!?' and then an impact resounded through the linkpearl only for it to go silent, and she was up and shaking Emet-Selch to rouse him within seconds. 

"Hey, I've got to go, come on get up."

He grumbled at her, but cracked an eye open to blearily watch as she rapidly saddled Kweh. "Something catastrophic happen, then?"

"The Waking Sands was attacked. The first time that happened, it was by Imperial forces. Much as I want to just rush off and save them, I'll need to do a few things first. I know they'll be safe." She pulled her mask into place as he waved a hand at her and picked her up by the waist, settling her on the saddle. "Not coming?"

"Do recall that one of us is not limited to such mundane methods of travel." A smug, if tired look crossed his features, and he stepped back as she nodded. "Go on."

"Right."

Nudging Kweh, the bird warked and then took off at a malm-eating trot.

* * *

Noraxia was dead by the time she got there. It was saddening, considering she had hoped that she might be able to save them but she was more frustrated with herself that she hadn't been able to forewarn them beyond the vague allusions to an attack in the future. Counting the bodies marked only three casualties, however, so that meant more hostages and fewer deaths. 

From there, it was off to the Church of Saint Adama Landama, in Eastern Thanalan. It was easy enough to weave the wild rose password into conversation, though she turned down the resulting offer of sanctuary. The Warrior didn't say it out loud, but she wasn't there to be -safe-. She was there for the robed man with the white beard that lingered in the corner. 

Marques, was the name he went by. Priscilla knew him by another and, after noting the timepiece he was turning over in his hands she offered to go out and collect tools for him. She headed for the Goldsmith's guild, and paused as she recognized a silhouette in a white doublet and shorts. 

" _Godbert?_ " The name burst out of her, and the midlander turned as he was addressed. Rifling her memory, she realized she couldn't remember when, exactly, she was supposed to have met him and took a step forward. A grin spread across her face, hidden behind the mask as she perked up. Stepping forward, she made sure she had enough room before starting to dance. 

He grinned at that, and joined in. 

"Fancy yourself a Manderville man? You would do what only a Manderville can? Then lift your legs, and put you your hands, be a Mander-Mander-Manderville man!" They finished their dances, and he smiled down at her. "Well now! You must have been looking for me, else you would not gyrate your hips in so gentlemanly a fashion."

"I wasn't, but you've got no idea how glad I am to see you anyways. I, uhh... We've never met, but I'm Priscilla. I know about the dance because I'm something of a type of prophet. I can tell you that Hildebrand's alive, but I can't tell you much more than that." A thought occurred to her, the Warrior glanced around. "Is Julyen around? I'd like to say hi if she is. I've nothing but the utmost respect for her."

"She manages things at the Gold Saucer while I putter around here . A type of prophet, you say?" The Manderville man hummed, before nodding. "It's reassuring to hear that my son yet lives."

"He's a Manderville man. Look, I need to grab some things and head out, but I'd like to talk to you sometime in the nearish future. I could use your wisdom."

* * *

Priscilla had forgotten how tiresome Ishgardian nobility could be sometimes. The matter of the false inquisitor was incredibly annoying, and she couldn't remember how she had gotten through it the first time. Well, that wasn't true. She _did_ know. It had a lot to do with a very specific someone who had often had knights doing half-naked squats in his office.

Haurchefant didn't stand on formality. He was a bit of a flirt, but both of them were more interested in seeing how they could out do one another. He also immediately agreed to help them clear Francel's name -and- find Cid's airship. While it wasn't -technically- a necessity, it certainly was something she wanted to have on hand strictly because she couldn't actually teleport herself places. She was fortunate in that she had the knowledge of how to sunder aether and enough oomph from three crystals to have made a crack in the barrier and slip through to defeat Garuda, but that didn't mean she wasn't going to need the ship to fly later on.

She couldn't _technically_ get into Ishgard. But Priscilla -could- reach out to old contacts she hadn't yet made and get some brandy smuggled out in exchange for things to burn for fuel. It was simple enough, but as she made her way back from the drop point with a pair of bottles tucked into a sack that was slung over her shoulder, the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. 

Mentally, internally, the Warrior profusely apologized for ever hating what the water crystal did for her. Everything was infinitely more difficult without the ability to see the patterns laid out across the ground, and the ever so slight aether sensitivity it gave her let her know when Ascians lurked about. Turning slightly, Priscilla patiently tried to get a feel for what direction gave her the strongest _feeling_ , before canting her head to the side. 

"You realize you can just talk to me like a normal person, right? No need to skulk about. I can see you, if you come out of hiding without a vessel."

The wind blew cold, and she spent a moment pulling the thicker coat she had bought a bit tighter about her. It wasn't the same outfit she had worn before, but Tataru wasn't exactly available to make it for her yet. That left her with drab, shabby clothes she had purchased on the way, all dyed black. 

Except for her boots. She had found those on the way out from Limsa that last time, metal capped toe and heel and all. They were every inch as comfortable as she remembered, and both caps could be replaced with spiked accessories in the event she needed to get traction across _ice_. 

Almost as if reluctant to do so, a rift swirled open and allowed Lahabrea to drift out. He had folded his hands behind his back and seemed to be staring at her through his mask, even as she stared at him through her own. A glance around confirmed that there was nobody around, prompting her to nod towards some of the rocks. "I dunno about you, but I'm going to settle there out've the wind. You wearing a vessel? I've got Ishgardian brandy. No cups, though, but so long as you don't stick your tongue down the neck of the bottle, it's no skin off my back."

A faint sound answered her, and with a shrug she made her way over to the outcropping and hunkered down. The faintest tap against the crystal from Ifrit had a pleasant warmth staving off the worst of the chill, and a solid thirty seconds of work had dug down enough that she wasn't going to melt her way through a snowbank. Rooting through the sack, Priscilla rescued one of the bottles and rolled it between her hands for a moment, trying to warm it enough that it wouldn't feel like ice going down. 

"So! Let me hazard a guess. You're either here to keep an eye on Emet-Selch _and_ me, or you were just passing by on your way to muck with Ishgard." The cork was worked out of the bottle and tucked away before she sniffed it. A pleased sigh escaped her, before she took a sip. "Good stuff, good stuff..."

"Attempting to trick me into revealing my plans to you?" 

"Not at all. Idle conversation. Not a whole lot I can talk with you about otherwise, you know." The bottle was offered out as he drifted closer, and the Warrior tilted her head. "I've gotta say, I'm worried about you. All this hopping between vessels weakens you, which can't be good for your health."

"Why do you _care_. You are the enemy. One of Hydaelyn's Blessed chosen." She didn't have to see his forehead to know that his brows were furrowed, suspicion lacing his words. Priscilla shook her head with a sigh.

"Because at one point we were co-workers. Once upon a time, you hatched a mad plan that actually _did_ save the world, and while I don't necessarily agree with the method I still recognize genius when I see it. Everyone was desperate, and your plan worked where everyone else's failed." 

The Speaker continued to stare at her, before reaching out to tug the bottle from her grasp so that he could turn it and look at the label. "'Tis true then, that you recall the time of Amaurot."

"I don't understand why people keep thinking Emet-Selch is capable of lying. Surprises me every time someone _doubts_ him." The Warrior shook her head, before working to get more comfortable. More snow was dug out of the little area she had settled into, giving her room to sit down on the cold stone and shiver. "Hnng. Thal's balls, that's _freezing_."

"My question yet remains. You and I had many... Arguments, in the Final Days and before." 

"Because you were a horses arse who kept pining after me when I'd made it clear I wasn't interested. I think I even slapped you at one point." Both hands came up as his gaze snapped upwards, and she could feel the glare he gave her even if she couldn't see it. "You _were_. I'm glad to be co-workers but you've always been too brash. Which is half of why I worry. I don't want to have to watch you, or any of the Ascians get killed. And yes, I know the difference between killing the _vessel_ and killing an _Ascian_ but there's ways to do -both-."

A metal-tipped glove tightened around the neck of the bottle. "Fragmented and imperfect as you are-"

"Look, all it'd take is one or both of Nidhogg's _eyes_. It'd scatter your aether. The hardest part would be making you stay _still_ long enough, which given the way you like to monologue isn't actually that hard. You're not an idiot. You can see how things might end if they stay on the course they're on." Her tone was flat, before she gestured to the bottle. "You gunna just hold onto that, or are you going to take a swig and pass it back."

He grit his teeth as he eyed her, turning the theory over in his mind before turning and vanishing into a rift, bottle and all to leave Priscilla frowning at the loss of the brandy. 

"... Well _fuck_."


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some exposition

Lahabrea paced the floor of his tidy little hideaway. His boots clicked loudly against the hard, well worn stone floor that lined his gallery. Countless books, all secured and stored, each one holding a different fragment of history. Shelves filled with urns, fragments of mosaics and artifacts that told portions of the stories of the people they had belonged to. Fine grains of sand that he would _never_ let slip between his fingers. He may not have had the memory Emet-Selch took for granted, but he had his own methods of ensuring he could recall. 

The bottle in his grasp still held the chill of Ishgard, and he deposited it on one of the shelves as he passed an empty spot. Chronologically out of order, but he would get to it another time. Preferably when he felt less likely to hurl it against a wall and shatter it, because he really didn't want to have to clean up a mess. It would only make his mood worse. 

The Speaker passed his collection of ancient spears, before pausing and backing up a pace. His reflection stared back at him in the glass, and he caught the way his lips were pulled into a deep and bitter frown. Reaching up, he removed his mask. 

No, not _his_ lips. Borrowed flesh, a midlander, with dark hair and darker eyes. A nobody. 

It didn't matter. 

Turning away, he tucked his mask back into place and made his way to a smaller antechamber. There, in the center of the room, sat a desk. The walls were papered with maps and notes, his effort to keep track of what plot of his was progressing and where. One wall had a large empty spot, where Haukke manner had once resided. The papers for that one were scattered all over the floor, torn to pieces in a fit of rage. 

How had she _known_. He could accept that she had memories of the past, but there had been absolutely no hesitation when she had burned the building down. Something ad odds with her otherwise consistent attempts to _save_ people. Was there an algorithm for it? Did she only save certain people? How had she come to the conclusions she had when she, allegedly, had pre-purchased the materials for their little -snack-? 

It didn't make _sense_. She couldn't have known that there were no hostages within the building before setting it on fire. Every rumour had indicated there would be. He felt like there was something he wasn't seeing, and it frustrated him as he settled into the chair and rifled through one of the desk drawers. A handful of darts were produced before he leaned back and kicked his feet up onto the corner.

The dart board set by the door received the first of the darts as he tried to work through his thoughts. 

What did he know about her? He knew she remembered Amaurot, liked brandy and had a knack for sensing when Ascians were about. The cold hadn't seemed to bother her after the first few moments, and the bottle had been warm against his glove in comparison to the environment. For all intents and purposes, a dual wielding rogue, but one that could manipulate aether? Ninja could, he knew that, but he also knew there was no way she could have trained as one. 

Hang on. Hadn't she absorbed a crystal after defeating Garuda? She had defeated Ifrit. Perhaps she had retained the aether and could manipulate it within her. It would explain the unnatural traits she possessed that set her apart from other 'Warrior's of Light'. Idly turning a dart in his hand, he tapped the fletching against his mask. Was it simply a matter of gathering and storing aether for future use, or was it a transplanted source. Were the reserves she gained from absorbing aspected crystals gathered from the primals she killed finite or infinite. 

The dart tucked into the board next to the first, a hairs breadth away from the bullseye. 

It had been some time since she had killed Ifrit. It was safer to overestimate an enemy than to underestimate one, which meant working under the assumption that they simply expanded her personal reserves. Fuel tanks, so to speak. He couldn't see aether as clearly as Emet-Selch, but he could bait her with one or two more primals and see if he noticed any change. If they expanded her personal casting capacity, that meant she could very well become dangerous. -Truly- dangerous. Her words about what it would take to kill an Ascian...

The next dart missed the board, and he stared at it and then at his mutinous fingers as he felt the subdued soul of his vessel struggle before he squashed it flat. 

She hadn't exactly been wrong. Scattering his aether with a blast that held the power of both of the Eyes of Nidhogg could theoretically do it. How had she _known_ , though. It was untested, and yet she had spoken with absolute surety. If the Warrior of Light wasn't getting her information from the Architect, then _who_ was she getting it from. It wasn't something from the days of Amaurot. It had been confirmed that there was no Ascian spilling their secrets, and nothing of use 

There had to be a source. She couldn't simply _know-_

Lahabrea went very still, as a lot of things rather suddenly made sense. 

* * *

Priscilla waited for him. She hoped he would show up, if only because then there was a chance that things were still more or less on track. When he finally showed up as she watched the dragon, Cid and Alphinaud sneaking past to prep the airship, relief bloomed through her and she let a small smile settle across her face. 

**< <You told the old hyur that you were a prophet of a sort. Tell me. Did you see this, too?>>**

"You heard that then." The smile faded as she shrugged. "More or less. It's not a hundred percent accurate, but I knew you'd show up here eventually. Even if it wasn't you, it's only smart to try and hinder my mobility by stopping me from getting an airship."

 **< <Your certainty of the death of the Ascians stems from this, then.>>** Lahabrea frowned at her, and she tilted her head as he continued. **< <Tell me then. How do I die.>>**

The Warrior stared at the Speaker, before looking towards the dragon. She mulled over his question for a moment, before shaking her head. What counted as 'dead', she wondered. Thordan? Shinryu? "... Your final end comes, after being utterly exhausted in ways I can't possibly describe, at the end of a spear and a single downward thrust."

** <<Emet-Selch was so certain he would not have to speak to you of our plans, because you already know them.>> **

"Well, I know -some-of them. Like I knew what was really going on in Haukke manor. I only stuck around after burning it down to make sure Amandine was dead. Couldn't have her crawling out of the rubble, and all that." Priscilla gestured towards the Ascian, before folding her arms and pulling her coat tighter around herself. "You? Even with the way you keep stealing people's bodies? I made my peace with you before Hydaelyn sundered the world. If I can, I'll try and save you too."

For a long moment, Lahabrea stared at her. His mouth opened a few times, as if about to say something before an ugly frown pulled the corners of his lips downwards. 

** <<... Have you truly seen the world made whole.>> **

"I watched it happen from the floating bastion of Azys Lla. It was refurbished, you know. Made to hold people while the world churned. Kept a lot of people safe." 

**< <And the Doom? Did it return, did you defeat it?>>**

The Warrior smiled faintly, before shrugging. "Bit trickier, that one. I didn't see the Doom return. But we found a piece of it, and learned how to fix it." 

** <<And you expect me to believe this!?>> **

"Look, I didn't come to you screaming about being a prophet." She grumbled, grimacing as Cid waved at her to indicate that the airship was almost ready. "You came to me and looked to confirm it for yourself. I'd already figured out how to fix the Doom before everything got split into chunks. Iff'n you don't mind Mister brandy-thief, I've got an airship ride to catch."

** <<We shall see about that.>> **

The Speaker vanished, only to reappear beside the dragon. He couldn't have known that as he infused the dragon, as he sought to set it on the airship, that she was grinning under her mask. When he turned, he took note of her salute as she hopped down into the courtyard as her chocobo paced along the upper walls. 

* * *

_**< <Horribly primitive model of an airship.>>** _

Priscilla perked up, turning to peer at the rift that Emet-Selch drifted out of. With how nobody else on the Enterprise reacted, she felt it safe to assume that he was currently without his vessel and tilted her mask up. It revealed her grin, and she watched him as he made to settle at the railing beside her to watch the scenery pass below them. "Compared to Allag? Compared to Garlemald? Certainly. But I like how they look. Even if they don't have really anything for protection against bullets."

"Lahabrea is in a particularly _foul_ mood. I don't suppose you had anything to do with that, did you?" Arm crossing at the wrist, an eyebrow was quirked towards the Warrior as she poked her fingers together and failed to look innocent. 

"I sort of goaded him a bit. It's not my fault he's got a poor temper. I needed him to infuse the dragon to test a theory. You know what they say. Experiment, observe, repeat."

"Whomever _they_ are, they certainly sound like they have at least a fraction of the right idea. Still, he came to me demanding to know the extent of your prophetic visions and whether or not I was aware that you had them. 'Tis a very fine line you have given me to balance, considering I cannot -actually- confirm that your Echo shows you visions of the future." A claw-tipped glove was waved idly as he sighed and slumped at the railing. 

"I'm not worried. You're brilliant, after all. I'm sure you'll find a way." Priscilla shifted to nudge him, before making a face as her elbow went through his intangible side. "Ugh. Oh. So how's this work, anyway? Ascians, going around without a vessel. I know that when your vessel dies, you don't go all the way back to the lifestream and just... float around a bit as you recover but I don't know a whole lot about this state otherwise."

The Architect's brows furrowed as he glanced over, before he let out an exasperated huff. "Truly? Whatever did I teach you, in that other time."

"A lot of different ways to be physically flexible. I wasn't complaining." Cheekily, she grinned at him and pulled her mask the rest of the way off as he rolled his eyes. 

"How utterly _shameless_ of you. Very well. What is my payment to be?"

"A lessening of my ignorance?" It didn't work, and he simply quirked a brow at her and then leaned to watch the scenery pass by below them once more. "Hmm. I'll answer three questions of your choosing to the best of my ability from my memories." 

"Acceptable, if only barely. A child would know this. Anyone who manipulates aether, be they a scholar, thaumaturge or otherwise learns this as one of their very first lessons. I will tell you this only once, so _do_ pay attention." Straightening, he lifted a hand and set some motes of light to float in the air, ignoring the way Alphinaud let out a startled sound from nearby. "Aether is the foundation of all that exists in creation. Each individual carries with them three different types. That which forms the body, that which supports the mind and that which is expressed by the soul. From here, they can be a variety of elements."

The lights shifted, stacking so that the smallest was encased by the middle one, which was then covered with the largest of the three. Translucent, they remained visible even through the layers of the others. A snap of his fingers had them abruptly turning a golden brown. "Tempering, as you are passingly aware, suffuses the aether of one being with the aether of a primal."

"Yeah, I know a little bit about that. It usually, uhh... 'Clumps', for lack of a better word." Catching the approaching elezen's eye, she waved a hand to shoo him away. "Don't worry about it, Alphinaud. It's Emet-Selch."

"'Clumps' is not quite the proper term. It targets specific portions of aether, and radiates outwards from there. Sundering the Tempering out of an individual essentially cuts this portion out. Those portions are often connected to the mind, to memory, and to remove them in such a way will inevitably cut deep enough to damage the -soul-." One claw poked through the light to tap the innermost sphere before sliding to the side, as if to scrape something off. Golden brown motes clung to the metal as he drew it away, leaving black spots where they had once lingered as the colour drained away from the rest of the glowing orb. Emet-Selch sighed, and shook his head. "To your original question, however. My aether is currently that of the mind and the soul. I am practiced enough that I can keep myself from dissipating in such a state. The average individual requires physically manifested aether, created naturally from other physically manifested aether in the form of a body, to retain their sense of self and prevent themselves from being drawn to the Lifestream."

"Alright, I think I follow." Leaning on the railing, Priscilla furrowed her brows. "You can go around without a body, because you've got a strong enough grip on yourself even at your weakest that the lifestream can't get a hold of you and drag you in? I'm remembering something about a current-theme."

"If you wish to put it in such terms, then the Lifestream is a river. Not only am I an excellent swimmer, able to move against the current but I need not swim at all. I drift above the current, separate. Oh, I could be _carried_ into the water with the shock of the death of a vessel, but there are many reasons as to why I can simply step out of the river at any time. One of which is that my title naturally makes me more _buoyant_ than the average soul, thus allowing me to float to the top that much easier."

"You sort've lost me a moment there, but then I followed what you were saying again." Looking up at the clouds, she tilted her head from side to side as she worked through it. "The average person can't surmount the shock of the death of their body, because they're tied to it really tightly? But Ascians can, and even if the shock drags them through the Lifestream a bit, an Ascian is used to holding onto themselves so they don't get waterlogged, they keep their sense of self enough to reach a 'shore' and climb out. And you're saying it's even easier for you."

"A little rough, but passable." A hand was waved through the motes of light, dismissing them as he watched her. "Sometimes, the average mortal has a reason that binds their essence together. It allows them to 'reach a shore' as you say, but there is often a great deal of mental damage involved with this. They lose pieces of who they are. Ashkin -that is to say banshees, bhoots, bogeys and the like- are examples of these wayward spirits."

"Okay, okay yeah, I get you. And you were able to pull Y'shtola out of the lifestream, just like the elementals were, because her physical body hadn't broken down too far." Priscilla nodded slowly, and then frowned. "And when I die, it's my physical body being fixed by a surge of the aether within me, even as part of it keeps my soul and mind from getting too far away."

"Even with the final crystal now in your possession, I would advise against taking any mortal blows. I am convinced that repeated brushes with death damaged your memory in the future you have described." A hand gestured to her as she blinked over at him. "You often mentioned that you struggled with math, and that a great deal of time was spent following the direction of others without truly understanding motives or means. While you are no great intellect at this time, you certainly seem rather more in control of your mental facilities than you have described. Half of that is education, which can be corrected."

"Which brings us right back around to my experiment. I was surprised that the ice crystal lit, but I think it's the same reason the one from the Sylphs lit. The people involved felt I was being heroic. So I don't think it's just -me- that's a factor." Scrubbing one hand across her face, the Warrior nodded towards Cid. "I think it's also the belief of the folks around me. Sort of like how prayer fuels a primal. Which makes me think I've been walking a dangerous line the whole time without realizing it."

"Worried you might become a primal yourself?" Emet-Selch smirked, and shook his head. "There are more factors to it than simply faith and aether. Take Shiva, for example. 'Tis also the concept of becoming someone else. Yes, an influx of aether is involved and yes, faith in oneself can play a part, but to become a primal you must also have the ability to draw on the aether of your environment. All of your aether is restored by internal means."

"But I _can_ absorb aether from others. The crystals, for example."

"And anything you eat, technically. 'Tis different than putting your hand on a rock and supping on the aether within it. You are not an illusion granted solid form by faith and prayer." A hand was waved before the Architect turned, pulling a rift into existence. "I must needs return to my projects, Priscilla."

"Meet me in Revenant's Toll?"

"Very well." 


	25. Chapter 25

In another time, another life, the rest of the Scions had gotten to the Rising Stones before she had and claimed their own rooms. This left Priscilla with a smaller one, set further back in the cliff face with a window that overlooked part of the roof of the main building. Even now, when she had the lion's share of it with the way most of the others (barring a few, for example 'Y'da', Y'shtola and Alphinaud) she reflexively just accepted it as her room. She didn't -need- something enormous. It wasn't as though she kept trophies or even slept in it that often, but it served all the basic functions that she asked of it. 

More than that, it was -familiar-. In her mind, it was the room Hades had scandalized the female miqo'te who would eventually go from being a conjurer to a thaumaturge. It was the room she had learned about the layers of Garlean armor in. It was the room she had teased Emet-Selch about how his feet dangled off the end of the bed, and suggested maybe he should sleep diagonally on it. 

Much as she had worked to avoid dragging the Scions into things, she had come to realize the moment Alphinaud had entered the church and proclaimed Cid's identity that if she wanted to make sure things worked out somewhat similar to the way they had in her memories she would need them. Which meant she would need them in their capacity as -friends-. Which meant that they might come to be targeted by the Ascians. Which meant-

Well, she was getting ahead of herself. Already she would have to tamper with things, considering the Ultima weapon didn't have any of it's primal-based components. She would have to come up with an excuse to visit the Praetorium and stop the Heart of Sabik. But for today... 

Today she flopped onto the bed of the room she had picked after breaking in through the window. It had been a thoughtless moment of muscle memory, climbing up and getting to the roof before tweaking the latch. A jostle of the window itself, a hooked piece of flat metal that then teased the latch the rest of the way open, and then it had slid upwards to let her in. At night, she would sneak to the nearby Castrum and get them out of there. Y'shtola would have headed to Ul'dah by then, which meant Ly- _Y'da_ , Alphinaud and Cid were settled into the Waking Sands. 

Briefly, she wondered if Lahabrea had crossed paths with Thancred yet. She had muddied memories of that taking place shortly after Ifrit, but Emet-Selch had also been in the area during that time. The Unsundered tended to avoid one another, if at all possible, which meant he had possibly been spared that this time around. The Speaker's vessel had lacked the right jawline, when she had seen him in Ishgard. 

Still, no news was good news when it came to the whereabouts of, specifically, -rogues-. That meant he was probably kicking around, if he hadn't managed to end up dead in a ditch somewhere. The Warrior put the thought out of her mind and settled down to sleep as much of the day away as she could.

It felt like she had just touched the border of unconsciousness when the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. She could hear the sound of the rift as it opened, before two booted feet touched down. Cracking an eye open, Priscilla rolled to eye the Garlean in her room with a lazy grin. 

" _Now_ who's shameless, teleporting right into a woman's bedchambers. I could've been -naked-."

" _-Please-_ , you don't even get naked when you wade into a river to engage in what passes among you savages as a bath." Emet-Selch sniffed before, wrinkling his nose as he removed his helmet. He was dressed in the gear that was common to the soldiers of Castrum Centri. "Which you _need_."

"It's not my fault. I've only the one set of clothes, and Ishgard's not exactly the right climate to go skinny dipping in." Propping herself up, the Warrior stuck her tongue out at him and then nodded towards the door. "Depending on what time it is, there might be an empty, very rough not yet complete hot springs that you can push me into, if you've a mind for it."

"Remind me, have you yet gained the blessing of the Kojin? Or is there a very real chance I might -drown- you if I held you under for too long." A smirk quirked the corners of his mouth as she snorted and moved to stand. "Ahh, yes. The Ruby Sea came after Ala Mhigo. For -shame-."

"Drowning's a horrible way to die, lemme tell you." A good-natured grimace crossed her face as she reached to snag the mask she had dumped onto the desk before stepping over to the door and unlocking the door. He was quiet for a moment, and she turned to catch the thoughtful look on his face as he produced a handkerchief from his pocket and then snapped his fingers over it. With a ripple, it grew out into a particularly large, fluffy towel. 

"I don't recall you mentioning you ever died in such a way."

"I didn't, but I imagine it feels similar to choking on liquid light as it burns a path up the throat and into the lungs." Priscilla shrugged with one shoulder as she opened the door and checked the hall. It seemed clear, which prompted her to simply meander along towards where she remembered the baths were. "I don't blame you for the sin eaters. You were hoping I'd prove stronger than all of them combined, just the same as I was. Ardbert made the difference."

"You say such things with an astounding ease. While I am grateful that you are not holding the sins of this other Emet-Selch against me, you _do_ realize that I still set such events in motion on the First, correct?"

"Yeah. And I'll take care of it. I know what I need to do, and that's, I dunno. Calming. You're Tempered. It's not like you can regret this stuff yet. I'll worry about getting an apology from you when you can give me one. Trying to force one now's a stupid idea, and one that's just going to end up driving you away." A corner was peeked around, before she led him further into the complex. A left, a right, and then straight through two intersections...

"And you cherish my company _far_ too much to allow that to happen at this stage." The words were a sarcastic drawl, and he had to quickly step to the side to avoid colliding with her as she abruptly halted. 

"Is it so hard to believe that might actually be the case?" The red mask was tilted upwards to study him as she partially turned, and he frowned faintly as her aether contracted defensively. "That I might genuinely like you, and look forward to the day that we can talk as two people instead of blatantly ignoring all the things wrong with the situation?"

"Is it so hard to believe that I might yet remain skeptical, considering your -shall we be polite today and say _limitations?_ \- in addition to how little you seem to have actually remembered of the days before Amaurot fell?" He quirked a brow, watching as she mulled over his words. "This _thing_ we are cultivating, this nameless, formless uneasy peace forged of very deliberately stifling a great number of things we both hold in high regard and consider to be of great import. Do you truly believe me to be so blinded by your hues that I am wont to conveniently forget the inevitable when you fail to meet my expectations? By your very words, you will do so when I test you with the lightwardens."

"I won't. Not this time. Not when I know what I'm doing, but you've no proof of that until we get there. It's a long road and many camps between here and there. That leaves your expectations of what comes between now and then. And you know what? I think you don't yet know what to expect." Priscilla cocked her head to the side, before humming and leaning towards him. One hand came up so that she could prod him in the middle of his chest. "I believe _in you_ , not that you're blinded by anything. That nameless thing's got a name after all. Cruel as it is. You can't help it any more than I can."

"Oh? Pray tell, what do you think it is. Affection? Lust? Dare I say it, _love?_ "

"It's called hope, Hades. Now c'mon. I -stink- and I'd like to soak for at least a few minutes before you can come up with a witty retort or I get bored."

* * *

The hot springs were, surprisingly, finished. They also lacked the dividing wall, which made sense. The Scions had started planning to move their base of operations there after all, though they hadn't finished by the time of the attack.

The thing about hot springs, was that you didn't use them for _bathing_ , you used them to relax.

There was a washing area that it was customary to use before getting into the spring itself. It was also, generally speaking, best to drink plenty of liquids and eat something before going in but the Warrior settled on scrubbing herself down and mournfully setting her clothes off to the side. As funny as she might have found the mental image of just wading in fully clothed, she was rather looking forward to just enjoying the relaxing heat with the towels they provided for some semblance of modesty. 

When she waded out, she noted that Emet-Selch was already lounging in the water with a smaller towel folded and draped over the upper half of his face. Head tilted back, he looked like an average guard with his arms stretched out along the ledge of the hot spring, and as she splatted over she caught the gleam of pale gold watching her from under the edge of the cloth on his face. She tried to ignore it as she waded into the water, self-conscious in ways she hadn't felt in -for her- a very long time. 

"... Are you _blushing_ _?_ "

"Look, I'm basically naked while being alone in a hot spring with someone I've got really clear memories of doing _things_ with, when that someone is also basically naked." Settling down on a ledge in the water, Priscilla leaned back and sighed contently as the heat started to soak through her skin and warm her bones. "'Course I'm blushing. I'm flustered and trying not to sneak a peak. 'Cause that might come off as rude."

An amused sound answered her, and she wondered if he would draw closer should she closes her eyes. After marking the distance between them, she tugged the towel around her torso a little higher and then shuffled down further into the water so that she could rest the back of her head against the ledge. Her eyes closed, after that, and she listened to the faint sound of the water as it settled. 

"Priscilla."

"Mm?"

The Architect remained silent for a moment, as if carefully picking his words. Water sloshed slightly, but when he resumed speaking he sounded no closer than he had a moment ago. She fought the urge to open her eyes. 

"Why."

"Pretty _vague_ , 'specially for you. Why what?"

"Everything, really. Why did you choose to try and accept your original existence? Why attempt to save us all, why..." He trailed off, before sighing as his tone soured. "... I suppose most of these I already know the answere to. You always were _fond_ of solving problems with the aid of a few friends, and disliked dragging the Convocation into it."

"It's just the way I am, I guess. But that's probably what you meant by already knowing the answer." 

"By all rights, you should hate me. You know what I am capable of, what I have done and what I intend to do."

"I _should,_ should I?" Cracking her eyes open, she quirked a brow at the way Emet-Selch was staring at her from across the hot spring. "Because you're a monster, is it?" 

Pale gold eyes narrowed. "Had this conversation already, have we?"

"Sort of. Something like it." A slight shrug lifted her shoulders out of the water before she sank back down and hummed softly. "In living memory, you built an empire specifically to remove threats to the balance between light and dark. You killed and subjugated your way across Ilsabard. You caused the fall of Dalamud, and tipped the First to light to prepare for the next Ardor. You've killed more people than me, tortured, set up plots and arranged for countless horrendous deeds. Even if your Tempering's expunged, the fact that you did these things isn't going to go away. I could say it was Zodiark's fault, but it doesn't feel like it, does it."

"Are you not the vaunted Saviour of Eorzea?"

"Because of the Ascians. Without you lot there's not really much to save Eorzea from. That conversation we've already had, what it came around to was without your Tempering, you _want_ to do better. That's good enough proof for me that you're a good man. Even with Zodiark's aether lacing your own, at the very heart of you, you -build- things. You fix them." Steel wrapped blue eyes closed once more, and she leaned her head back against the ledge once more. "I know who you're capable of being. I guess that means I've got expectations of you, too."

"A _good man_." 

"A man good at many things. Go on. Tell me you're not good at many things. I'll wait." The corners of her lips quirked upwards as he huffed. 

"Insufferable little cretin aren't you." 

"Monstrous of me, isn't it. Speaking of, you're a number've questions over the three I promised. Pity you didn't save them."

"You-" Water sloshed as he moved towards her, and she kept her eyes closed and imagined him standing there with his hands on his hips, scowling. "It was not agreed upon exactly _which_ questions would be my chosen three."

"Exactly. Nor did I say when I'd answer them. You've already asked five or six while we've been here. Makes me the generous one-" Priscilla clamped her mouth shut as he snagged her by the ankle and hauled, dunking her under. She grinned up at him, shifting and kicking his legs out from under him only to roll her eyes as he started to float at the angle he had stumbled into. A moment of reorientation as he stuck his tongue out at her had her reaching out of the water and hauling downwards to pull him in. Surfacing, she cackled and waded out, clutching her towel around her chest even as she waved his in victory. 

He sputtered as he surfaced, narrowing his eyes as he noted her lounging against one of the rocks a dozen fulms away with his towel. 

"You think yourself possessed of clever fingers, do you?"

"I am, I will admit, something of a _thief_." Priscilla grinned at him, before the expression vanished at his smug smirk. 

"I suppose I have no choice then." The Architect settled his hands on the ledge before he hauled himself up and out of the water. Folding his arms, he quirked a brow at how her face rapidly turned red as she forced her gaze up to the ceiling. "Ready to throw in the towel, so to speak?"

"The thing about calling my bluff? Means I gotta double down on it." 

Aether shifted within her, and she pulled on the gift from the Sylphs before bolting back towards the room with her clothes.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was almost a smut chapter, but it didn't feel like time.

Emet-Selch could teleport. This was a well known, well documented fact. Generally speaking, Ascians could be lazy and dramatic enough that they would teleport across a twelve fulm space just to look theatric. The Architect was no exception, and also possessed a keen ability to sense aether. 

It didn't matter where she ran, he was inevitably going to end up there as well. With his ability to also pull clothing out of thin air, it made the whole towel stealing thing rather moot. Still, the Warrior's greatest combat ability was how wells he could improvise, and for all that he appeared in her room when she threw open the door, he didn't expect her to dodge around him, practically scrambling along the walls to do so, and head out the window as she hauled a bedsheet after her. 

Climbing the rocks with her bare hands and feet would have been much more difficult if she didn't already have an instinctive knowledge of where all the _Bad Ideas(tm)_ were set into the wall. All those sharp little spots, the ledges that were most likely to crumble and the deceptively shallow grips were avoided. Still, when she reached the top he simply stepped out of another rift. 

Still stark naked. She would have thought he was an illusion if not for the fact that water from his hair dripped onto the ground. Priscilla lifted her gaze upwards. She was _not_ staring. 

_(Except, really, she was. She had exceptional peripheral vision.)_

"Do you truly believe that you could out run _me,_ of all people?" 

"I mean, I seem to be the only mortal that death doesn't -stick- to." The banter was casual, and she caught movement as he padded closer. She took advantage of how he glanced down and made sure he wasn't stepping on any particularly sharp rocks to tie his towel off around her waist and wrap the sheet around her. Two quick steps had her standing on a smooth patch of moss, and she grinned cheekily at his exasperated huff. His footsteps ended a moment before his shadow loomed over her. "Hey now, you're floating. That's cheating, that is."

"You _failed_ to specify the rules of engagement. My towel." 

"Possession's nine tenth's of the law." Two more steps were taken to the side before she stifled a wince when her heel caught a rock. Several more were hobbled closer to the middle of the clifftop as he drifted serenely after her. "Oh. Oh oh oh. That's -sharp-."

"Come now, with your limited options there is precious little you can do, and even less that might work-" He sounded smug, even as he followed her around an outcropping of crystal and then came to an abrupt halt when he found himself face to face with the Warrior. She had climbed a few fulms and settled in a nook, legs swinging and a wide grin stretching her lips before she patted the neatly folded towel that sat on the ledge beside her. "That is not _my_ towel."

"It's -a- towel." Priscilla supplied helpfully, grin growing as he rolled his eyes. Collecting the towel, he ignored her pout as he shook it out, focusing and weaving his aether through it to transmute it. It lengthened, thickened and warped before he wrapped the impromptu toga around him and then sat down next to her as she snickered. "Well. Now it's not a towel at all, is it." 

"Dealing with you invariably involves two methods. Standing still, shocked and appalled at your audacity or moving forward and making the best out of a situation that is invariably chaotic in nature." Brushing a few stone chips out of the nook, the Ascian glanced over as he felt her eyes upon him and quirked a brow at how she quickly looked away. Leaning, he let a smirk sprawl across his face. "Still blushing, I see."

"Happens sometimes." Coughing politely, the Warrior shifted to lean against the rock behind her and looked out towards the horizon where the sun was beginning to set. "It worked out though."

"'Worked out'? There was a reason you stole my towel, then? I find that hard to believe." 

"All according to plan, really. Step one, steal the towel. Step two, uhh.... Step three, watch the sunset." A cheeky grin was aimed at him before she looked towards the horizon once more. "Step four, profit. It's a nice little spot, you know. The back of the crystal provides enough of a visual block that even if folks look from the rooftops or other tall buildings, they can't see us. I don't know when the rough bench was carved here, but I found this place a long time ago. I wanted to share it with you."

Emet-Selch tensed slightly, before following her gaze. "... Staring too long at the sun can and _will_ cause blindness."

"Probably. Anything that bright is gunna get painful to look at after a while. Still, lots of folk find it beautiful, because it doesn't last all that long but it happens every day. A mix of the two schools of thought on what 'beautiful' means. Longevity versus spontaneity." Swinging her legs slightly to idly thump her heels against the crystal below her, Priscilla pulled the sheet a little tighter around her shoulders. 

Leaning forward, the Architect settled his elbows on his knees with a sigh. "And you? Do you enjoy the sunset?" 

"Personally? I like what it heralds. Night time, the time for sneaking. The time for mischievous-ness, and danger. But I also like how it paints the clouds. Red sky at night, sailor's delight." 

"Is not the other half of that 'Red sky at morn, sailors be warned'?" 

"Something like that. Though, I'm pretty sure that's just a reminder to check the clouds before because lots of clouds or fast moving clouds might mean a storm, and when you're on the water that can get dangerous." Priscilla's grin softened into a smile as she tilted her head. "I also like the impersonality of it. No matter what the average person does, the sun'll still come up in the morning and set at the day's end. An Inevitability."

"If anyone could change this, it would very likely be you."

"Or Elidibus. Or Lahabrea, if he'd stop body-hopping and recover himself a bit. Or you, really." Shifting, the Warrior nudged him with an elbow, prompting him to glance at her with a quirked brow. "What about you? Is the sunset something _you_ enjoy?"

Pale gold eyes studied her speculatively for a long moment as he partially turned so that he could better face her. When he didn't answer, she winced and hunched her shoulders. 

"... Guess that's a no, then. I, ahh..."

"There is something to be said, for both the sunrise and the sunset. One symbolizes rebirth and renewal while the other symbolizes death and decay. Allag had many legends of a great serpent that chased the sun at night, before it fought it's way free in the morning to cast it's light upon the Star." A hand was waved as he shook his head and tutted. "At one point, I would have said the dawn. At another, dusk. Through the years my preferences have waxed and waned."

"Oh. What about right now?"

"Currently? I find myself enjoying the ability to bask in the sun." A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as she nodded. 

"I can understand that. Napping in the warmth of the sun seems right up your alley, provided it isn't too hot or too bright. Like laying in the shade of a tree." Relief bloomed through the Warrior, and she nudged his arm once more. "I'll have to find some good spots for you then. Between being Solus and me essentially kidnapping you, you haven't likely had a chance to look around and find any."

"-Please-, you did _not_ 'kidnap' me." The Ascian shook his head as she snickered. "To kidnap not only implies that I am a child, but that I had no choice in the matter." 

"You were though! For a little bit, you were totally a kid. In fact, I'm _still_ not sure what age you set your vessel to. For all I know, going by Zenos' height, you could physically be twelve. And that's overlooking the whole cloned, test-tube less than a year to grow thing." Priscilla hunched, grinning as Emet-Selch's expression settled into a faux scowl. 

"I am an _ancient sorcerer of eld_ , I will have you know. I have seen-"

"-The rise and fall of empires," Priscilla interrupted with a solemn intonation. "Walked among the masses, lived, loved and laughed-"

"You-" The Architect swatted at her as she snickered, both hands coming up to ward his hand away. 

"Man, and I call myself a thief? I've got nothing on you, oh Stealer of Hearts, Spare Bodies and-" She cackled as a ripple of aether manifested behind her, squishing against him and throwing her arms around his shoulders to anchor herself. "Ach! Nooo, there's sharp rocks down there!"

"It would serve you right." Sniffing haughtily, Emet-Selch eyed her for a moment and then looked towards the horizon where the last sliver of the sun was just beginning to disappear. The gathered aether behind Priscilla fizzled, and he waited a moment for her to move. When she didn't, and instead sighed to watch the last of the light disappear as she leaned against him, he settled one arm around her waist. "... Twenty one."

"... You've lost me."

"The estimated age that I have set this vessel to, is roughly twenty one. It occurs to me that I don't actually know how old you are." A faint frown drew his brows together, and the Warrior let out a thoughtful sound. "I suppose it does not truly matter, beyond the fact that I missed the birth of your current reincarnation."

"It's a good question, actually. I'd have to do some math and figure out how long ago it was. Being a street rat urchin doesn't lend itself to really knowing about what year it is. Stuff like that doesn't really matter much when you're more worried about where the next meal comes from."

"You did not have a family?"

"Did. Had two, really. My Da was a sneak, just like I was, and my Ma was a sailor. She left me with him, in the little shack he lived out of in La Noscea. I saw her whenever she came back to shore as a kid, before she just sort of... Stopped coming around. Da always thought she'd been killed at sea, which happens. One day, he stopped coming back too. I was old enough to know people in Limsa, and joined up with a group of urchins before meeting Jacke. He ended up being sort of like a brother-father-friend combo." Shifting, Priscilla tugged on the sheet and tucked her feet in under it as she re-settled against his side. 

"You don't seem to feel much grief over the loss of your parents."

"It was a while ago. Longer, when you shuffle the memories I got into the mix." A slight shrug lifted her shoulders as she closed her eyes. "... I should get ready to hit the Castrum. The Scions aren't going to rescue themselves. Are you going to go back to whatever projects you were working on?"

"And miss your attempt to break into a Garlean stronghold? Come now, this should prove most entertaining." 


	27. Chapter 27

She had practiced her imperial salute, and had a disguise. She was determined that this time, Maggie wouldn't get left behind. She met up with Cid and the others, nodded her head blandly as they reviewed the plan and then...

Then they entered the Castrum. They were _supposed_ to be in a storage facility. They weren't. She made Biggs and Wedge leave before they were all discovered so that they could contact Y'shtola and L- _Y'da_ , before pulling herself onto a roof. Definitely differences between before and now, she realized, and she mulled the matter over in her mind. 

Emet-Selch had worn the black and red imperial uniform when he had manifested in her room. She had half a mind to ask him what he'd done, but shook her head. No, for all that he wasn't allowed to help her she didn't see him going out of his way to hinder her either. Which left the plausibility of him simply monitoring the situation. 

It still left her with a few options. Perched like a gargoyle on the edge of the wall, the Warrior surveyed the compound and tilted her head. Livia would be somewhere in the area. If anyone knew, it would be her. Fortunately, the Garlean in question tended to wear brilliant white armor that would stick out at night like a sore thumb. A moment of focus had several viable areas springing to mind before she started to carefully move. 

And then immediately froze, hunkering down as dark black and red armor passed under one of the lights. She knew who it was by the orbs that looked like starlight ornaments hanging from his helmet. Priscilla made a face as Livia exited one of the buildings and saluted him. 

* * *

Emet-Selch sighed as he folded his arms and watched. Intangible, he swept the compound once more for the aetheric signatures of the Scions and found only Priscilla. Speaking of, she was waiting patiently for something as she overlooked the courtyard where sas Junius and van Baelsar were conversing. The latter made a dismissive gesture, and the white-armored Garlean stood, saluted and turned. 

The Warrior started to _move_.

She dropped down with impressive stealth. She seemed to count on the way both of them had their backs to her to keep her hidden, considering she cut directly across a lighted patch of ground and settled behind the Black Wolf. Quick hands worked at something against his back, and he realized with no small amount of interest that she was stealing the cartridges from his weapon. This was, naturally, followed by the entire pouch with his replacements, before he sharply snapped his head down. Two steps kept her at his back as one of the black blades came up and around, curved edge resting against the Garlean's throat. 

The Architect was too far away to make out what they were saying. So, naturally, he drifted closer only to pause as Gaius let out the shout. They broke apart, even as Livia rushed back into the courtyard, and somewhere an alarum sounded. 

**_< <Not the most subtle of your work, Priscilla.>>_ **

Still, she didn't seem panicked. Her aether was calm, and flowed smoothly as she dodged the first few shots from sas Junius. Gaius lifted a gauntlet and growled out something as the wrist mounted firearm clicked, empty. The Warrior took the opportunity to gather her aether to a fine point and break into a dash, drawing close to the Tribunus Angusticlavius. Abruptly spinning, one blade sheared through one of the bladed fins and removed it completely, as the other came up to take off one of the flanges on her helmet. 

It sent Livia staggering back, and Gaius drew his gunblade, found it lacked cartridges as well and then charged in with a shout. It cracked down against the pavement as Priscilla wove out of the way and spun once more, this time bringing the blade up and cutting through part of his helmet. The motion was deliberate, even as a number of Garlean soldiers entered the area and formed a ring. 

The Warrior looked bored, and flourished her offhand blade. Briefly, the Ascian wondered if she knew they were built to break if used to block, and shook his head as he drew close enough to overhear the conversation. He rubbed his temples as he caught a few words. 

"-strength to rule, then it stands to follow that if I kick your ass, you have to do what I say. Which, really, I'm playing with you when I cut through your armor like that." The Warrior shrugged, tapping the back of one blade against her shoulder as she adopted a casual stance. "The other option is I start killing folk, which really, just think about what Varis would say about a report that says you lost half your number to a savage."

"Sir! That's... That's the Eorzean that broke into the Capital and fought with the Legatus of the XIIth!"

"It has yet to be determined which of us is stronger. That you would resort to petty tricks-" Gaius shifted, suspicious as she lobbed his pouch of cartridges at him. His helmet tilted from where it sat on the ground at his feet up to where she was audibly yawning and stretching.

"Well? Go on. It won't make a difference. I'm banking on the fact that you were smart enough to keep away from the Battle of Carteneau so that you could keep your forces alive and not spend them needlessly. I tried asking nicely, and you shouted to raise the alarum. This is the only other way left."

Turning, the Legatus toed the cartridges aside and turned to one of the nearby soldiers. "You. Give me your ammunition and have mine checked. I will fight the savage, to test the strength of their steel."

"Ayy, that's more like it. Honourable-" She sounded like she was grinning before heaving a sigh as Livia barked out an order to fire. As they did, a handful of cartridges hit the ground and the Warrior dropped into an abrupt crouch, both swords coming down. The scrape of cermet across flint as she both bisected the ceruleum filled tubes and lit them seemed to hang in the air before they exploded with a bang. 

He worried for a moment, but noted the Warrior's aether surging rapidly up the wall as she made her escape. A cursory glance around the area informed him that there wasn't likely to be any pursuit before he vanished and reappeared beside her, drifting out of a rift and keeping pace. She was running, both blades sheathed and making tracks south through the mountains. 

"Well now. It seems your plan failed. What do you intend to do now?"

"Worry about what's different and get my ass to Castrum Meridianum and the Praetorium."

"You intend to destroy the incomplete Ultima that they hold there?" A brow was quirked as he watched her scamper and leap from rock to rock, picking her way along carefully. 

"And look for the Scions. Without the aether of the primals, the weapon isn't too much of a threat and I'm pretty sure they were supposed to be shipped there anyways." Sliding down one slope, she launched herself into a tree and scrambled for purchase as she started to cross through the Fogfens. "Might just be that the timing's a bit off, or it could be something about Lahabrea."

"What are the differences?" Hands at his sides, he grit his teeth as he darted around, watching her go from branch to branch so that she could avoid the wetlands below. 

"Well-Oop!" One of her boots slipped in the thick moss on a branch, and she went sideways so that she could throw both arms around it and haul herself up. Continuing on, she idly rubbed her ribs. "For one, Lahabrea had possessed Thancred by this point. Back around Ifrit, actually. He's supposed to have been the reason why they knew where the Waking Sands was. Another is that Garuda didn't call on the remains of Titan and Ifrit to help her against me, she just -died-. There wasn't anything for Gaius to scoop up and stuff into the Ultima Weapon. I didn't even see him in the area, though I didn't look -too- hard. Which, again, should've been at Lahabrea's urging considering he needed them to make the Heart of Sabik work." 

"Anything else?"

"Ay now, I'd be careful if I was you. You're actually being helpful, letting me organize my thoughts." A hidden grin was flashed his way before the masked rogue continued along from branch to branch to trunk to branch. "There were more hostages taken. It's from this that Gaius learned of the Echo, and his reports that then got read by Zenos and started prompting him to work on the Resonant."

"I am engaging you in conversation so that I might delve for information and see where your train of thought lies." Folding his arms, the Ascian huffed. "Such is what I will tell the others, at the very least. 'Tis a partially honest answer. Do you want my great-grandson to gain the Resonant?"

"I don't know at this point. On one hand, it made Fordola and him immune to Tempering-" She slid down the trunk of one of the gnarled trees, avoided a puddle and continued along the ground at a run. "-which, really, load off my mind that. On the other hand it lets him possess primals. Load _on_ my mind, that. There's also the countless folk that I'm-pretty- sure get killed in order to give it to people."

"And you intend to run the entire way."

"It's not -that- far."

* * *

Priscilla had made one minor oversight. She had forgotten about the three shield generators. She disabled the first one by hacking into a pair of pipes before working her around to the second. Cid had, she recalled, exploded it by overwhelming the core of his Reaper. She erred on the side of caution, and instead of trying to hack through sought to save her strength in the event of an emergency.

This left her to find a crowbar and pry open the casing in between patrols. It didn't work. She grit her teeth to try again before a rift opened beside her and Emet-Selch stepped out. He tugged the crowbar from her grasp and then motioned for her to keep watch as he produced a few tools of his own and got to work. 

"What happened to not helping me."

"I'm not helping _you_ , I'm helping the _Scions_. There is a difference, considering you continue to attempt to keep yourself unaffiliated with them. Look away, and if anyone asks be a dear _lie_ to them for me." She did, but caught the flash of sparks and the sound of something buzzing against metal. The sound echoed through the courtyard, continuing for a moment before a pair of 8th Cohort Laquearius jogged over. 

"Hey! You can't be there!"

Priscilla saluted crisply. "Sir, we're a pair of Architectus that were ordered to perform maintenance on this pylon on account of the failure of the first. We are to open it up and inspect it to ensure everything is in working order. I'm going to have to ask you to stand back and keep clear."

"Who gave you your orders?" Both of the axe wielders shared a look before eyeing her suspiciously. She was thankful she had kept the Imperial uniform on, even as she wracked her brain for someone who would be a plausible lie. 

"Tribunus Laticlavius Scavea, Sir. He noted the difference in the consistency of the shield and contacted us." Behind her, something thumped as the Ascian snarked about shoddy workmanship. The buzzing sound of what she had assumed to be a saw of some kind stopped, and she gestured to the other two. "Look, we all know how the eccentric bastard gets. I'd rather not get stuck with the shit shifts by taking forever with this. If you help us, then we'll get out of your hair that much quicker."

They shared another glance, before one of them winced. "You've got a point there. How can we help?"

"I think he's opened a gap wide enough for you to get a grip and haul. I'd pull myself, but I'm just an Architectus." Turning, she looked towards Emet-Selch who stepped out wearing the exact same uniform that she was, and gestured. 

"Once you have the panel off, we can take a look."

Both of the Laquearius nodded and stepped in, before gripping the edge of the metal. One thought for a moment, before levering his axe into the gap. Together, they pried and with the protesting groan of bending cermet the panel came free. She tucked in once they stepped back, eyeing the tubes and wires with a nod.

"Ah. I see. I have to remove this component here and run to grab a replacement from the storage units. It's just about fried itself." She shifted, looking towards the Architect and gesturing to the confusing mass. Pale gold eyes rolled as he ducked in beside her and started to rifle through the tubes. Two wires were pulled before something sparked, and he resolved it by grabbing the green-tinted board and tearing it out with a sharp tug. "See? What'd I tell you. Just about fried itself. Let's head over to storage. You two, would you stay here and guard it, make sure nobody comes by and tampers with it?"

Both of the axewielders nodded in tandem once more, and she waved at them as she followed the Ascian through the compound. 

"Two down, one to go. It's the one by the main doors, I think."

"Remind me to work on your knowledge of Garlean engineering sometime." His voice was dry as he produced a keycard and let them through the gate. 

"Hey, I think I did alright. I'm pretty sure I got the ranks right." 

"Beyond that it should have been Tribunus Laticlavius -tol- Scavea, more or less, but neither of us bear the insignia of an engineer and we -don't- call them 'pylons'. They are _field generators_. Because they generate _fields_." A heavy sigh escaped the Architect, before he shook his head. "I suppose instead of going through the gates, you intended to simply go up and over them."

"You got me. I'm just hoping I don't have to cross paths with Livia's white Reaper. That thing was -tough-." Stretching, she tucked her hands behind her head as she kept pace. "... Last time I did this, there was an army involved. The Malestrom was blockading places and the Twin Adders were moving too. I cut through here and the Immortal Flames worked their way through in my wake. A lot of them died, when Lahabrea activated Ultima. Lot've Garleans died too. That always bothered me."

"You destroyed the third field generator quite by accident, correct?"

"Mn? Ah. Yeah. Blew up an airship and it crashed into it. Why?" Her hands dropped to her sides as he frowned at the doorway they had stopped in front of. 

"Because you _may_ want to start praying to Hydaelyn for another miracle. If I bring my power to bear, it will alert Lahabrea to my presence. He arrived within the Praetorium, and I currently hide within your shadow. Difficult as it may be, considering you lack the proper density." Emet-Selch huffed as he swiped his key through the pad and punched in a set of numbers. The door slid open, letting them through before she glanced up. 

"I could whack it. That might cut in deep enough, but I'm worried about getting zapped for my troubles. Otherwise I could jump into the way of the beam, but that would probably -also- hurt a ton. OR I could try and find a Garlean airship to fly into it."

"'Tis a shame the offices are all locked. I could teleport, but that would rather give me away." Emet-Selch frowned faintly, before blinking as the Warrior rounded on him with wide eyes.

"The offices? Wait, so there's a way to just-" She waved a hand vaguely. "-turn it off? Like a searchlight? A switch thingy you flick and it powers down?"

"Yes?" He quirked a brow at her. "How else do you think they get supplies through? There are stations on both sides that allow for this, in the event of an emergency or necessity. Only having them on one side is a bit like locking your keys inside a Regalia with the roof up."

Priscilla stared at him, before sheepishly scratching the side of her face. "Makes sense. I can break into anywhere, if I know where it is."

A moment of deliberation had the Ascian glancing about before he pointed at a section of wall. "There. At the base is a chamber. You should be able to enter it by scaling the wall and going through the door where it is buttressed against the tower."

* * *

It turned out, after she disabled the third tower, that the easiest way across to the Praetorium would be to fly. She climbed, instead, with Emet-Selch electing to remain behind to free the Scions. It was easy enough to get in. Finding the Ultima Weapon was harder. Turning the damn thing on...

It wouldn't be able to fly, but it had enough power to break down doors and trash the canisters that had spare limbs. She worked to open the housing of the Heart of Sabik and grinned to herself as she diligently worked to uninstall it. By and large, it was mostly a matter of tearing the casing off and then hoping that the chunk of crystal set into the chest didn't go off as she broke the latches holding it and then lifted it out. She had it in her hand before her hair stood on end. 

**< <I wondered why you were here. Are you not content with the damage you have already done to my plans?>>**

"Nah. There's a whole lot more I'll have to do before I leave here. I wondered when you were going to show up. You've been awfully quiet lately."

 **< <I see. There are limits to the prophetic visions you receive then.>>**The Ascian drifted down, folfing his arms as she scrambled around to the cockpit. His gaze more followed the crystal in her grasp than her movements at large, and he narrowed his eyes. **< <What do you intend to do, with the Heart of Sabik?>>**

"Well, much as I'd first considered destroying it, it's a part of Zodiark right? The teeniest portion, inert. So I figured I'd take it with me instead, try and keep it from being used as a weapon and honour His original purpose of protecting this world." Priscilla shrugged, tearing off her sleeve and tucking the head-sized chunk into it. It took some work, but she was eventually able to knot both ends so that it was secure and covered before she tied it to herself. "I'm pretty big on trying to compromise. Maybe set up a little shrine somewhere-"

A rift opened and Lahabrea drifted out right in front of her, coming to a halt mere inches away as she tucked an arm securely around the bundle. One eyebrow was quirked beneath the mask, and she reached up with her free hand to give him a gentle shove backwards with her knuckles. Both brows furrowed as he slapped her hand away and snarled. 

** <<Do you think this is funny? That this is a joke? You are the ene->> **

The thing about thieves, is that they tend to be very good at sleight of hand. Making it look like they were doing one thing, when in fact they were doing another. Her hand came away with the necklace around his neck, and the body plummeted like a puppet with it's strings cut, sliding along the construct's back before hitting the ground with a quiet thump. 

The small switchblade concealed between her fingers was idly tucked away as she hefted the necklace and it's severed cord. After a moment of thought, she nodded to herself and stuffed it in a pocket before resuming her work. 


	28. Chapter 28

There was a little man in red armor shouting and panicking as he tried to seal doors ahead of the Ultima Weapon's advance. Priscilla almost felt _bad_ for him. She hadn't yet figured out how everything worked, but the unconscious body on the seat beneath her worked well enough as a boost that she could reach some of the unlabeled switches she didn't doubt that Gaius would have been able to reach with ease. She avoided anything that gave her a bad feeling and stretched her legs to toe the pedals on the floor. 

"Why are there _eight_ of them!" Grumbling, she snagged both of the hand-grippy things and maneuvered them, before realizing they controlled the arms. The buttons on the sides fired the beams from the hands, which she took copious advantage of. Rotating upwards or downwards controlled the elevation of the arms. Two exploded bulkheads later and she felt like she was getting the hang of it. If only she could figure out how to close the hatch behind her. 

She tried not to aim for people. Instead, she put holes in walls and avoided anything that looked load bearing. The room with the spare parts was decimated by her second pass through, and the Warrior snickered as the Weapon rocked with the blasts of the Reapers that were being assembled ahead of it. She ignored them for the time being, and stepped onto the lift. 

"Right. So how do I go down there and activate the li-" A sensation of _listening_ radiated outwards, and she was hit with the impression of raw fury mixed with black leather and red armor. She didn't even bother looking around, instead waddling the Weapon over to the wall and starting to work on getting it to _climb_. Punch, punch, kick, step, punch, punch...

The compartment was too small for him to use his weapon of choice. When it felt like he was essentially on top of her, she lifted a hand and idly waved. "Damn, Nero. For all that this is a refurbish, you do good work."

"Evict yourself from the unit, Savage, or I'll-"

"I've got more of the Echo than anyone else. Killing me doesn't exactly -work-. I could tell you about it, you know. A trade of information." She could feel his indignation, and continued carefully destroying the wall in the process of climbing up to the next level. She knew she was making progress when the explosions stopped rocking the frame as she pulled herself up high enough that the Reapers couldn't get a proper angle, making it easier. "So you _could_ shoot me in the head, only for me to turn around and glare at you all of two seconds later, or you could, y'know. Not. And learn something even Cid doesn't know."

"So the reports were accurate. A red-masked monster, seen in the company of-" He cut himself off, muttering curses. "You're also the savage that fought with the Legatus of the XIIth, then."

"Yep. Speaking of Zenos, is he in Doma or Ala Mhigo? I've got to look him up again and go another round. I promised him, you see, that I would. There's so much I'd like to tell you, but I don't exactly have time so none of what I'm about to say is gunna make sense-" The ledge came into view, and she worked out how to lift -and- rotate the wrist enough to anchor the bent, damaged claws over it to continue hauling the mass upwards. Two kicks to anchor later, and the other was freed up to also come over the ledge. "-but I've seen prophetic visions of the future. You build the most _incredible_ things. You help me defeat a dragon eikon by digging up an ancient Allagan machine known as Omega. You then help me defeat Omega and you make things that make gravity work the other way, and convince Cid to make weapons. You're really fond of black sunglasses. When I try and figure out Allagan cooking appliances, you're the one I call on linkpearl and, even though you can't be there in person... Oh. That's Gaius isn't it."

The Legatus stood at the end of the ramp up. Behind him stood a double row of reapers, spaced so that the shots of the row behind wouldn't damage the units in front. He was probably saying something, considering he had drawn his gunblade and gestured at her. She hummed and leaned forward, before she felt the Garlean shift. 

" _Move_." Glancing over her shoulder, she scooted to the side and perked up as the Tribunus started to curse under his breath and sat down on the body beneath her. Long-limbed as he was, he had no difficulty reaching everything and flipped switches. "You never aimed to kill anyone here, did you. Most of your shots went wide by too large a margin."

"Sometimes, death happens, but I was mostly trying to escape not kill folks. Say, did you also work on the prototype that escaped?" 

He snagged the controls for the arms, ground out a bitter ' _Yes_ ' and then drove the Weapon forward. Numbers flashed across the display as he toggled something, and she whistled lowly as a series of targeting arrays lit up. She noted that it was moving much smoother, and coughed discreetly. "So uhh... How'd you get it to move like this?"

"I disengaged the _parking break_. Now. You're going to tell me everything I want to know."

Priscilla gave him a bewildered stare before shrugging. "As much as I've got time to. Ask your ques-Ay! It's not taking damage from the canons. I wondered how to turn that on." 

Another switch was hit, and the compartment closed up behind them. "Tell me what you know about Omega."

"It's an ancient Allagan weapon that was originally, I think? Something that chased the dragons to this world, a really -really- long time ago?" She frowned, trying to remember as the Weapon turned and slid sideways into the formation. Reapers crashed against the wall, and she winced as she remembered where Gaius had been standing. "It's got destructive power to spare, but a mind of it's own. Clear goals, of becoming the most powerful weapon ever. Because of this, it builds levels within itself and kidnaps folks to test it's lethality against."

"The _where_ , damn you. Where is it located!"

"Uhh... I'm remembering reds? Was it sand and reds, or... No. Not sand. Gritty yes, uhh..." She wracked her mind, ignoring the glare aimed at her as she waffled between telling him where it was and sparing herself the hassle of him setting it on the world. "I dunno, man. I know you're the one who found it, but I also know that after you did, it woke the rest've the way up and you had to help me kill it after it crashed. It wanted to kill everything, which is why you got me involved."

"I got _you_ involved." Another lift was approached, and this time once the Weapon stepped onto it the Garlean toggled something, punched in a number, and the lift activated. She whistled lowly and slipped off the seat as he turned and stared at her through his helmet. "Without the knowledge of Omega's location, you're-"

He never got the chance to finish his sentence. She muckled onto the man beneath him and punched what she had, early on, learned was the button that had originally ejected Gaius from the exploding Ultima in another timeline. The lift came to a stop, and she eased the still unconscious stranger onto the ground before settling herself at the controls. 

"Nice talking with you Nero. We'll have to pick up another time."

* * *

Emet-Selch stood at the edge of the airship as it started to draw away from the Castrum. Those who had needed to be rescued were present and accounted for, if somewhat worse for wear. A section of the outer wall of the Praetorium burst outwards, before a reptilian looking construct emerged. Priscilla was located near the back of the neck, and he let out a quiet sigh of relief as it turned and trundled off.

It must have been the Ultima Weapon, based on her description. He turned to meet Cid's eye, and the engineer nodded before bringing the Enterprise around to catch up to it. It didn't take long, considering it moved with a noticeable lack of coordination, and as the airship drew near he stepped off the edge and drifted down to the shoulder. 

The hatch at the back of the neck was open. He leaned to peer in and grimaced as a hyur in Lahabrea's robes peered up at him with a panicked expression. He seemed to be helping operate the pedals, considering the entire seat was missing. 

"She made me-"

"Easy, that one's with me. He's not here to hurt you." Priscilla glanced back, waving and stepping on another pedal. "Hey, you mind getting him up to the Enterprise? He's had a bad, uhh... However long he was possessed. I gotta get this thing further into the swamp and explode it somehow." 

"Knowing you, I doubt that will be difficult." Pale gold eyes settled on the hyur, before the Ascian offered out his hand. "What is your name."

"S-Sonnie." The brown-haired hyur reached to take Emet-Selch's hand, yelping slightly as he was pulled out of the cockpit. 

"Sonnie. You are, understandably, confused at the moment. Your questions will have to wait." Peering upwards, he gauged the distance and then pushed him through a rift. The startled exclamation from aboard the airship confirmed a successful landing (not that he was worried about it) before he looked down and frowned at the Warrior. "What happened to the chair?"

"I ejected it with Nero. He kept asking questions and I didn't really have answers prepared yet. Poor Sonnie, I think he cracked a rib when I hauled him out from under Nero mid-motion. Here, take this." One hand untied the bundle from her belt, and he eyed it as she offered it out. "I don't have to explain what it is, but I'm _really_ hoping it might be useful in siphoning your Tempering off."

"Hmm. A possibility, if nothing else." Gingerly, Emet-Selch accepted the knotted sleeve and held it at arms length. "What did you do with Lahabrea?"

"I was part-way through cutting the necklace so that I could pull the crystal off the guy, but he swatted my hand. I've still got the necklace, but I dunno..." She frowned behind her mask, balanced on one foot and using the other to press pedals and keep the Weapon moving along. "I'm still not sure what happens to an Ascian when you pull their crystal off a vessel. Does that do the same thing as killing the vessel?"

"Not quite. Rather like what happened with tol Scavea, to be ejected that rapidly and without warning is disorienting. The crystal will dissipate back into aether if he fails to concentrate on it for too long." The bundle vanished in a swirl, and the Architect narrowed his eyes as he took in the controls. "To destroy this, you will need to damage the power supply."

"I'm betting that's in the chest. It seemed that the explosions started there and spread out, last time. Though, that might've been the Heart of Sabik going fir- Oh no. I think I'm stuck." Pressing pedals did nothing as the sensors continued to portray a slow descent. It halted as the front end of the Weapon finally hit the bottom of the bog it had stepped into. "You, uhh... You might want to get the airship a bit away. I'm assuming the Scions are on it, after all."

He sighed, before stepping back and drifting upwards. Hovering in mid-air, he turned and watched as Cid brought the Enterprise around. 

"The Garleans are mustering and coming this way!"

"The Warrior of Light intends to destroy the weapon here. Withdraw for now."

The white-haired engineer grimaced as he pulled the ship around in a loose circle. "But what about Priscilla? How will-"

"Don't worry about me!" The Warrior waved from where she had climbed out of the cockpit, shouting upwards. "Just go! I'll catch you lot in a few days!"

Cid made a face at that, but nodded and steered away to leave the Ascian floating in mid-air. Several clangs from below drew Emet-Selch's attention, and he had a moment to note the way she gathered her aether before she hacked downwards into the empty casing where the Heart of Sabik had once rested before the world went white around him. It was instinctual, the rift that swallowed him to protect him from the blast, and he watched as the cerulean sun flickered and dimmed. 

And then brightened. It stabilized for a moment before she started moving away from where she had landed, hustling on an angle away from the explosion. The Ascian turned to eye the incoming Imperial forces before shaking his head and moving to follow her.


	29. Chapter 29

The next few days were spent in a mix of travel and recovery. The explosion had given her something of a concussion, which was relatively light with all things considered. Emet-Selch left her to her own devices after that, either reassured enough that she was recovering to step away or determined to tend to whatever projects he had going on at the time. She didn't press him for answers, simply mentioned that she looked forward to seeing him again. 

She caught up with the others at the Rising Stones. After collecting Kweh and another linkpearl from Urianger, she turned and headed out to see to a few things herself. The crystal attached to the necklace had disintegrated sometime during her journey, reminding her that Lahabrea was out there still, and she visited Ul'dah to get the strap fixed. 

Her mask, totaled as it had been by the explosion, lived in fragments in one of her pouches. The few people she took it to to see if it could be repaired had told her it would, generally speaking, be cheaper for her to just buy a new one. The Warrior insisted, and asked that it simply be painted black to try and cover the sealed cracks. 

From there, she went on a relaxing adventure, relieved to find Hildebrand exactly where she expected to. It was an enjoyable break that allowed her to recover, and eventually she crossed paths with Godbert once more. While he didn't have a lot of time, he still agreed to help her practice a few things. She didn't ask, but could tell that he was relieved she hadn't been lying about the fact his son was still alive, and he accepted her silent promise to make sure the youngest Manderville stayed by and large safe.

Two weeks was all the time afforded her, it seemed. One night, while she was grooming Kweh, her linkpearl rang. It was Urianger. 

Good King Moogle Mog had risen. 

* * *

The Thornmarch was exactly as she remembered it, from the one moogle who couldn't quite dance the way the others did to the way moogles simply _were_. Which was was why she brought casks of booze and made sure to get them utterly -drunk- before aggravating them enough that they called on their Primal. It made the ensuing chaos somewhat easier when most of them couldn't aim worth a damn. 

Each one fell with a thump, black mage white mage bard and rogue in that order before she went after the rest. Finally, it was her and the king. He didn't fare any better than the others had, though one of his spells had clipped her and sent her slamming into a treetrunk. 

From there, she checked on the sylphs and realized they had, in fact, already summoned their Lord of Levin. Ramuh was more difficult to deal with, but generally speaking nowhere near as aggravating as fighting Titan had been. It was simply a matter of collecting the castoff orbs that made her hair stand on end and insulated her from electricity and then killing the elemental guardians before finishing the Primal off. Straight forward. Not necessarily easy, but provided she knew what she was doing more of a routine thing than anything else. 

By the time she settled back in her room in the Caroline Canopy, Priscilla was exhausted. Worse than that, she had been counting the days since the Architect had left. No amount of whistling was getting his attention, regardless of how much practice it gave her, and she flopped onto the bed to pout to herself when the latest attempt failed to make him manifest in her room. 

She didn't know where his vault was, beyond 'underground', and grimaced to herself. One day, the Warrior promised herself. One day, she would ask him where it was. 

* * *

It wasn't that Emet-Selch _couldn't_ hear her. He had only the version of himself she had met in the first to thank for her efforts, though he had to admit to himself she certainly was getting better at whistling. She probably didn't even know what, exactly, she was doing when she tried. 

The Architect paced around the pedestal that held the inert Heart of Sabik, frowning as Lahabrea tested his defenses from time to time. The shouting was getting annoying, but he put it out of his mind as he went over what his work had proven. Her idea to use the fragment of Zodiark to siphon his Tempering out wasn't exactly without merit. It was a simple matter of like attracting like, which would either aetherically tear him a new one or gently siphon the void-aspected aether out of his own. It might be enough to quicken the heart, but he set that thought aside for another time. 

And so, in the few weeks he had spent locked up in his own Vault, he built things. 

The schematics ranged from chairs, to tables to something similar to an Allagan stasis chamber. Things that would give him some level of comfort, as he fought against his Tempering and tried to focus on ways to make the process -safe-. He didn't want to have to endure the estimated levels of pain that would be inflicted on him if his theories were off by even the smallest margin. He didn't want to relinquish his Tempering. The fact that most of that was the Tempering itself infuriated him.

Somewhere, the Warrior of Light whistled. The sound tugged at his aether, despite the fact that it was quite impossible to physically hear it. He used the sensation to anchor himself as he ran the numbers again, pencil tapping against the blueprints on his desk. 

A half-baked idea. It would be like going through a magnetic resonance imaging chamber and using it to pull the iron out of the metallic ink used in a tattoo with the way his work currently looked. A grimace twisted his features as, somewhere, an explosion collapsed a section of tunnel against the outer wall. The paper was pushed off to the side as he drew another in front of him and started over. 

If nothing else, he mused, he could use the Heart as a container. That was an undeniable fact. The end of the pencil tapped against the empty schematic before he pulled a ruler towards him and drew a line. Several ticks were marked through it, small ones, and he used them to better lay out his goals. 

Safety, was a priority. He wanted to survive the process, naturally. Emet-Selch pushed the intrusive thought that he didn't want to do it at all aside. He could use a corporeal vessel as a safety net, something to keep his aether together as he recovered. His own halls were secure enough that it would take a great deal for the other Ascians to enter. 

He wanted it to be as painless as possible. That meant finding a way to sweep his own aether and essentially lift the stain out of himself as if he was some sort of _carpet_ or upholstery without damaging himself. Sighing, the Architect dropped his head against his palm and closed his eyes. There were a variety of ways to control the flow of aether, mechanical or otherwise. It was disconnecting it from his own that was going to be the problem. 

A thought was given to Dalamud and how it absorbed the aether from the sun. Another, to the organic aetheric converters that Eden possessed. And then another, to the Echo. It immunized people from being Tempered by larger masses of aether, and he idly let his thoughts wander through the _how_. Her story about Zenos controlling Shinryu wasn't absurd. It was a matter of willpower, really. 

A frown crossed his features before he brushed his hair away from his face. No, attempting to control the Heart and use it that way was simply asking for trouble. He was already Tempered, and it held too much potential to backfire. 

Emet-Selch set the pencil down and raked his fingers through his hair. A break was in order. Besides, he really _should_ try and figure out what the Speaker wanted, and he was starting to miss the Warrior.

* * *

Priscilla was _not_ looking forward to dealing with the Monetarists. It was a yarnball she hadn't wanted to deal with the first time, considering she had no head for politics, and not much had changed since then. She had managed to avoid the Sultana getting poisoned, but it had been a close things. As she ran through the sewers, she knew she would out pace her pursuers by a large margin but didn't want to risk another _difference_ by hesitating. 

She still did, but that was because there was a pair of rather bright lights coming up the tunnel. 

Rushing over to the side and hoping that whatever it was that was incoming would pass her by, she found herself slowing and stopping the lights swung to the side and a black magitek _thing_ came to a halt. It floated serenely over the water, black flanges lined in red pointing downwards and (she assumed) part of the process that held it in the air with a soft hum. The last thing she expected was for the unusually familiar looking driver to throw one arm over the door and look down at her. 

"Get in." Said the blond, silver-gold eyes narrowing at her. She stared blankly, and his gaze slid to the tunnel behind her and then snapped down to her once more. Fine brows furrowed. "Well?"

"Look, I don't know what you're doing here but I-"

"Emet-Selch told me everything. Now _get in_." 

She grimaced, looked behind her at the distant torches and then sighed. A running step had her kicking off the wall and then latching onto the side of the vehicle. It reminded her of a vastly superior, far more sleek skyslipper, and the Warrior hauled herself into the seat behind the driver and frowned at the way sewage was dripping from her boots. "This your, uhh... Airship?"

"No." The wheel was turned, hauling the black magitek around to face away from the incoming mob. The lever between his seat and the empty passenger seat was pulled, and she leaned to watch him stomp down on a pedal before the entire thing lurched and sped off towards the exit. "'Tis something of Emet-Selch's design and ownership. We had a lengthy discussion, and he very nearly outright lied before I managed to convince him of my intentions."

"Which are...?"

"You claim to have seen my death. What the Architect described was far worse than a simple spear, when he finally got around to doing so, and lined up rather more accurately with the possible results of my plans." The vehicle dipped as he feathered a secondary pedal, smoothly gliding through the hole torn in the metal grate and then passing out into the night sky beyond. She leaned over the side and whistled loudly, waving at the wagon that waited below and was relieved to see it started to move.

Priscilla wrinkled her nose, before looking down at her feet and seriously considering throwing the boots overboard while Alphinaud and Minfillia still had a chance to collect them. It was probably too late at this point. Sewage tended to _stick_ to things when it wasn't spreading itself around. Besides, she reasoned, it wasn't like an Ascian wasn't able to clean it with a snap of their fingers. "Not really an answer there, Lahabrea. What are your intentions? Decided to help me?"

"Undecided, by technicality. Personal observation is more reliable than second or third hand information. Emet-Selch cannot lie without direct consequences, but that means little when it comes to obfuscating the truth." The Ascian fiddled with a dial before searching the sky and twisting to partially face her. "You did not destroy the Heart of Sabik."

"I wasn't lying when I said I'd thought about it and then thought against it." Poking her fingers together, the Warrior cleared her throat and shrugged slightly. "I thought if anyone stood a chance at stifling their own Tempering enough to do something about it, it'd be him, and that maybe he could use it to help with that process." 

The look on the Speaker's face was a mix of bitterness and contemplation, before he shook his head. "Blasphemy is not a thought I care to dwell upon. I have been made to understand that you have a process, a method by which interaction is made possible without aggravating the issue."

"It's mostly a 'don't ask, don't tell' sort of thing. How'd you know where I was?"

"Given the information I received, it was easy enough to make an educated guess after mere minutes of listening to the local gossip." His mouth set into a thin line as he turned back and steered to avoid an outcropping of rock. "Emet-Selch has sworn oaths that prevent him from directly aiding you in a myriad of ways. Do not think that simply because I am not bound by the same, you will receive aid from me."

"Hah! I'll settle for the company and your efforts to just not get underfoot. I welcome any and all questions and arguments about why something should or shouldn't be done, but don't think that just because I'm catering to you means I'll do what you say." The Warrior leaned back in her seat as she turned and watched the landscape whip by. 

"Very well. Indulge me then, in my first question."

"Fire. Not literally."

"Why start with a _red_ mask."

"Actually a couple of different answers to that. One, I'd a thought that maybe it would confuse the non-Convocation Ascians and give myself a bit've a breather from them. Two, Dalamud red's what I had at the time. It's black now because it hides the cracks a bit better. The explosion from the Ultima Weapon totaled it and gave me a hell've a headache for days on end. Why do you ask?" Priscilla leaned forward, peering at the rear view mirror. He caught her eye, and then shook his head. 

"Black suits you better."

"I'll take your word for it. My turn for a question. What's Elidibus think of this?" His eyes darted to hers in the mirror before fliting away, and she let out a low whistle. "He doesn't know, does he. Not yet at least."

"If fortune favours you, then he will not know until I have finished my research. Igeyorhm awaits my return in Ishgard, which I am led to believe was to be your next stop regardless." One arm was draped along the edge of the door, before the Speaker tried to get comfortable and grimaced. "'Tis too late for me to change most of my plans regardless, although there were some factors that I had already accounted for."

"Oh yeah! Did you ever actually possess Thancred? I haven't seen him in what feels like forever, I've been kind've getting worried about him. It was supposed to happen sometime around Ifrit, but..."

"The white-haired hyur? Nay. On noting the presence of the Architect, I kept my distance." Lahabrea scanned the horizon, fingers curling tighter around the steering wheel. "... Is there any room, any distant, fragment of a possibility that Zodiark can survive your plans."

"Heavy question, that. You sure you want the answer to it?" 

"Unhesitatingly."

The Warrior tilted her head before removing her boots and scrambling up to sit in the passenger seat beside him. He glanced over, and she spent a long moment studying him. Studying his posture, his expression and taking in the fact that this was a vessel that _looked_ like Lahabrea in addition to housing him. 

"I'm going to tell you a story. Feel free to stop me if you've heard this one, but I think it's important." One hand came up, so that she could remove her mask as she sighed. "Once upon a time a brilliant man made a primal. Not only did it work as intended, but it also proved to have the capacity to have other functions as well. It saved the star, and restored order to everything that was barren and toxic. Some people didn't like the cost. Some people didn't like the idea of primals at all."

The Speaker rolled his eyes, but refrained from interjecting. 

"Fast forward literally thousands of years. Someone who doesn't like primals starts whacking souls out of moons, leaving behind the weakened, inert fragments of whatever was left. Some people didn't _like_ that. The person doing the whacking felt a little bad too, but nowhere near as bad when the big moon around the Source started to crack open like an egg. The matter was forced, and all the souls were stripped out as the consciousness of that first primal was shunted into the body of a dragon who's only wish was to serve penance by being a prison." 

"Fast forward further, where on the last fragmented moon the person doing the whacking crossed paths with an awake, aware and active piece of Him. Who talked. Who said that working to devour everything was wrong. They had a conversation that made her _very_ uncomfortable. But she had a job to do. So they worked it out. She whacked the souls out as carefully as she could - and was able to do it because all parties involved were okay with her taking her time - and then that little bit was brought to reconnect with the bit in the dragon." 

"And then, when it came time to put the world back together, when Hydaelyn wouldn't have had the strength to do so those bits of Zodiark bucked up and agreed to help. The dragon He was within even agreed to help. And then, exhausted, the dragon went to sleep and the piece of Zodiark within her did too. Content and safe in the knowledge that the only thing they were waiting for was the next Doom, to act as a backup plan in the event the agreed-upon plan didn't work." 

"The cost of putting the Star back together wasn't specifically Zodiark, but the aether and souls of the people stuck inside Him. The person doing the whacking compromised by agreeing to wait and see, and reserve a complete death for when it proved to be really necessary. And Hydaelyn, weakened by millennia of work by the Ascians, went off to fix a broken world elsewhere under the understanding that once She returned then the matter of Her and Zodiark would be settled."

Priscilla waved a hand, shifting to sit sideways in the chair as she watched the Speaker. "I don't know what happened after that. I don't know if Zodiark was ever truly snuffed. But I -do- know that the sleeping dragon was something kept secret by the Ascians after that. That everything was _better_ , even if it wasn't exactly the way any one person wanted it." 

"If you allow for compromise, it shows that you do not fully stand behind your choices." 

She grinned at him, and shook her head. "Allowing for compromise means that I'm willing to endure something I might not wholly like for the sake of the community. Isn't that how Amaurot was supposed to be, why it was council-driven?"

Lahabrea glowered at her, and Priscilla simply grinned all the wider. 


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter. It felt right to end it there.

There were only two things that Priscilla wanted to change in Ishgard. One, was what happened to Ysayle which wouldn't come about until Azys Lla. The other, was what happened to Haurchefant which was looming on the horizon. She was fortunate in that she had her Echo, but that had largely been due to the _weirdest_ conversation she had ever had with Midgardsormr where he essentially told her he -knew- why she was here, and that she had his help having already proven herself twice over. 

It was a relief, but that didn't make the approach to the airship dock any smoother. She would have preferred if he hadn't been there at all, but really the chances of keeping him away were slim to none. Aymeric, who she knew would survive after having inspected his wound, lagged behind under the protective guard of Estinien. 

Haurchefant kept pace with her as she ran, but didn't run _too_ fast. When he shouted 'Look out!' and spun, she knew she would have one chance and one chance only. Priscilla threw everything she had into the sylph's gift and made it up the wall fast enough to bring her sword up and remove Zephirin's arm before he could complete his throw, absolutely ruining his aim. The spear of light fizzled and dissipated as the arm spun and bounced off of the side of the building before plummeting into the mist. 

It was a moment she had planned for, and thought about for a very long time. Her first option would have been to simply throw one of her swords, but she knew he would have survived purely to spite her and still somehow managed to kill her Unicorn Knight. That had made getting up close and personal _important_. 

The second swing, her offhand, came across and took his stunned head clean off his shoulders and she turned and stared at Thordan as the airship pulled away with her grin hidden by her mask.

* * *

Stretched out in her bed at House Fortemps mannor, the Warrior felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end as someone knocked on her door. The swirl of a rift near the window confirmed that it wasn't Emet-Selch at the door, which had her momentarily baffled before she waved him towards the furniture in general before she went and answered it. It was, to her mild surprise, Haurchefant himself with a bottle of brandy and a pair of cups that steamed slightly. 

She kept the door partially closed so that she could keep the fact that she wasn't alone somewhat to herself, and grimaced behind the mask as she counted the cups. "Hey. Everything alright?"

"I thought it only fitting that I bring refreshments for the Hero of the day. You saved my life, when I thought to save yours." He smiled sheepishly, and she snorted.

"I'll take the hot chocolate, but I've smuggled someone into my rooms and I'm afraid I'll have to take a raincheck on drunken celebrations for the time being." One arm came around to accept one of the mugs, and he laughed easily and relinquished it. 

"Oho! So the Hero claims the spoils of her victory and retreats to enjoy her company for the evening. With a body like yours, I can only hope that he or she appreciates every facet and sculpted plane of it." One blue eye winked at her as she nudged the mask up and choked on her sip of hot chocolate. A playful smile and innocent look was aimed into what he could see of her room while she sputtered before he trailed off suggestively. "If they prove inadequate..."

"You're _killing_ me, 'Fant! Get out've here. I'll find you for drinks later, yeah?" 

The elezen waggled his eyebrows at her, before he turned and sauntered off. She checked the hallway as she recovered, and then closed the door as she stepped properly back into the room. Licking her lips, the Warrior took a moment to enjoy the flavour of the drink and weighed the odds that there was a jealous Ascian in her room or not. Turning, she peeked over her shoulder to find him staring at her with narrowed eyes and arms folded across his chest. Two gloved fingers drummed against his bicep, and she couldn't help the amusement that surged through her at the sight. 

"Umm..."

" _That_ is the Unicorn Knight you were so keen to prevent the death of?" Emet-Selch's lips twisted into a sneer as he eyed her. "You ought to have let him die."

"Hey now, don't be nasty. I never slept with him." Her free hand pulled her mask off before she hung it off the doorknob, shaking her head. She lifted her drink and took a sip to hide the grin she was failing to stifle at the scoff and stiff posture the Architect maintained. "I never was gunna either. But he made me feel appreciated, respected my boundaries when I said I wasn't interested in anything past a one night stand and that it'd be -weird- if I had one with him considering I'd been adopted into his family."

"As though _that_ would ever stop anyone in Ishgard. Repression mixed with religion tends to do things to you mortals."

She could tell he wasn't mollified by her words, and sighed as she moved to set her drink on the desk before she sat down in the chair and tucked her elbow against the back of it. Her cheek came to rest on the palm of her hand as she watched him, not bothering to hide her grin. "You don't like that he flirts with me?"

"To date, he is the _only_ individual I believe you have ever allowed to directly call you a 'hero', for all that you and I have danced around the term 'heroing'. That means something." The Ascian sniffed haughtily, lifting his chin and partially turning to stare out at the scenery through the window. 

"Yeah, but I'm not about to let him quote _Wolfgang van Goeth_ at me." She snickered, and then waved her other hand at him. He refused to turn around and face her. She took a slight breath, before bulling on ahead while trying to sound casual. "Look, if you're _jealous_ , then make it visible that I'm taken."

The words hung in the air, intangible for all that they carried the unusual weight of an invitation she had been flirting with for months. She watched as the Architect's shoulders straightened, and tried to determine if it was alarm, surprise or something else that made him seem ready to flinch. With a wince, she looked towards her drink and snagged it, taking a sip. 

"... I am _not_..." Emet-Selch trailed off, affronted and mumbling under his breath as he partially sulked, partially tried to get his mind to resume working properly as he was faced with the implications of her words. He couldn't finish the sentence, and shifted enough that he could catch her reflection in the window. 

"I'm just saying, being uncomfortable with other folks flirting with me, sort've makes it seem like you are. But, y'know, it is what it is. It's not like I'm taking him up on his offer one way or another." The by now mostly cold chocolate was stirred before she tipped it back and drained the last of it. Peering into the bottom of the mug, she turned it this way and that while waiting patiently for the sweet sediment at the bottom to ooze it's way down and licked away what she could. "You're the one who said I should flirt with Death. Unless, 'course, that was just a moment of bravado. In which case, boy howdy was I reading too much into that."

"And if it wasn't?" Emet-Selch turned slightly, watching her as she set the mug down and sighed. 

"Then I'm glad to take this Hope as slow or fast as you want to. I _miss_ you and Uri, though with Moenbryda still alive I'm content to just make sure they're happy together."

He studied her for a long moment, brows furrowing. "What of the Emet-Selch of your memories."

"I could ask the same thing about the Persephone of the past, but then I'd have to say we're the same people and that it doesn't make sense to make ourselves miserable by keeping each other at arms length." A sheepish smile curled the corners of her lips upwards as she coughed politely. "The simple answer is people are who they are, and who they choose to be. I'm who I was, and even tempered you're who you're going to be. Haurchefant was still willing to take a spear of light for me, and Lahabrea _still_ peppers people with too many questions."

* * *

They ended up settled onto the bed together. Fully clothed, but side by side with their legs stretched out as they took the opportunity to just... Talk. Not about anything in particular. She had mentioned that the Speaker had dropped her a hint about an almost outright lie, and he had stiffly admitted that he was still _sore_ because of it, which had led her to the suggestion that they make themselves comfortable. And if they dozed off... 

Well, he had already used her as a pillow before, when he had returned after manipulating the other Ascians and directing them to where she remembered that they needed to be. Except for Nabriales, his goal had been redirected, so that Moenbryda could continue her research and survive. They didn't talk about Urianger again, instead settling on the unimportant things of the day to day. 

She drifted off first, which might have been surprising if they didn't take into account the fact that she had just spent almost the entire day fighting and running non-stop. It gave him the opportunity to study her and her aether as she settled more comfortably against his side. One of his arms was around her, and he noted in an abstract way that her face was buried in the fake fur that lined his coat. 

Briefly, the Ascian tucked his chin down to nose along her hair. She smelled of sweat, faintly of the soap he assumed she had used to wash the worst of the blood from herself and the type of oil used to maintain a weapon. Beneath that was something almost smokey, as if she had spent time near a great bonfire, and he sighed slightly as he tipped his head back. 


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, looking back, I'm pretty sure I've spelled lalafell wrong the entire writing of this story. And that makes me sad.

He knew countless thousands of things about Persephone. He knew everything the Warrior had shared about the Priscilla of the future that would not quite come to be. But what, Emet-Selch pondered, did he know about the unconscious woman dozing in the arms of his vessel. 

The Ascian let his aether drift around the room as he pondered, silently filling the space. They hadn't really... _Flirted_ , he supposed. Jealousy (the word was bitter to admit) came with personal attachment. Her attachment was passed down (up? handed off backwards through the transferal of memories?) to her with the visions of what could come to pass, and his was essentially rooted in the same thing it always had been. 

Priscilla seemed to have the unnatural gift of making things simple even as she complicated the hell out of them. Uneasy, he felt his aether roil and chided himself. He was the _Architect,_ not some mooning schoolboy. And she was... 

A thin shade of the bluest blue and steel grey filament. Cracked crystal paneling tethered together in a floating, jagged mass. Pieces glued together with molten silver like some sort of damaged _cup_ that was still missing the handle and part of the upper rim. Drinking from a cup like that was liable to cut him, if he wasn't careful. 

However...

He would have been lying if he had said he wanted to turn down her offer. He was acutely aware of the part of him that was starved for this thing they had, starved for _her_ , and with her willingly curled up in his arms and her aether nestled against his own he found himself entirely willing to -try-. The thought that it might not be enough was firmly put out of his mind. It _would_ be. It -had- to be. 

It was all he was going to have the chance to catch with his own hands if she continued on the path she had chosen.

* * *

When Priscilla awoke, it was to the smell of _bacon_ and the quiet crunching sound of it being -eaten-. She doubted her ears for a moment as the sound trailed off, only for it to pick back up again. One eye cracked open in time to see the last of a piece disappear as Emet-Selch ate it, and then licked his thumb and forefinger as he idly perused a tome that floated just out of the corner of her peripheral vision. 

"Now _that_ is a cruel and unusual punishme-oh." The plate was tapped as he chewed, and she shifted up enough to stop using his shoulder as a pillow and help herself. What had once been a breakfast of two eggs and hash browns with a side of bacon seemed to be one egg, a few forkfuls of potato and onion pieces two strips of bacon. She took him up on his offer and snagged one of the strips to munch on as he turned the page of his book. "Thank's."

"Your blue-haired friend was rather confused when he cracked the door open to find us both fully clothed. Blessedly, he refrained from commenting and left this by the door for you." 

"He probably thought you'd be a one night stand and gone by now." Shifting a bit more, she stole the fork and used it to shove the entire fried egg into her mouth. Blessedly, at the look he gave her she refrained from speaking and instead started eating in earnest. 

"Well, whatever he _thought_ clearly I proved him wrong." Tutting quietly, the Ascian snapped his fingers. The book vanished, and he spent a long moment simply watching her. The longer he openly stared and studied her features, the more prominent the pink of her blush became before she was sourly grumbling around a mouthful of potatos. 

"... Y'know, I'm sure I'm not the -cleanest- eater but you could, oh I dunno, stop _staring_ as if I've got onion in my eyebrows." 

"With the voracious way you devoured the rest of the plate, how would you know you do not?" He quirked a brow, and she finished her mouthful of food so that she could stick her tongue out at him. Gathering up the plate, she rolled and shifted until she was sitting up and snagged the last of the bacon. 

"Asshat. I'm betting I don't and that you're just planning something." 

"I usually am." The admittance came freely as he brushed a few crumbs from his coat and proceeded to lace his fingers together where they ended up on his chest. "I can see now why I might have called you 'little monster', however."

She made an affronted noise, and swatted at him with one hand. "I was gunna -share- this last piece of bacon you know. Just for that comment, it's all mine now."

Both of his arms shifted reflexively to block the blow as he smirked. One hand caught hers by the wrist, and a sharp tug sprawled her against him so that he could reach her other wrist. Curling, he pulled the bacon towards him and stuffed as much as he could in his mouth as she yelped. Pulling free, she hauled herself away and then windmilled her arms as she abruptly found the edge of the bed. Toppling over, she hit the ground with a muffled thud and groaned. "You've _killed_ me...!"

" _-Please-_ , if a little bump like that was the limit of what you could handle, you would have died with a far greater frequency than you thus far have." 

"I'm _dead,_ deceased, a goner-"

"Blessed Zodiark, grant me patience." Sighing, Emet-Selch tucked one hand behind his head and shifted to make sure he was comfortable. His tone was idle, casual when he spoke again. "Do you have plans for today?"

"-expired, thrown to the wolv- eh?" Sitting up, Priscilla peered at the Architect before stuffing the last shred of bacon into her mouth. "... Well, I mean there's still a ton of stuff to resolve in Ishgard, and then I have to sit for a bit and remember what happened next so I can figure out where I'm -supposed- to go. Lahabrea should be with Igeyorhm trying to find the key that Bismark swallowed, so I don't have to worry about them, but... Why?"

"Oh, no truly pressing reason." His free hand shifted, waving idly as he closed his eyes. "I simply thought it might be nice to meander around the city. I understand you have a preference for heights, and the rooftops and spires of the city seem as though they might appeal to you."

"I mean... You're not -wrong-. _Me_ meander around the city, or _we_ meander around the city?" Her aether shifted, hesitant and carefully cautious to his senses as he focused on her.

"I _suppose_ I could accompany you."

"You-" Realization dawned on her, and she hauled herself up so that she could sit on the edge of the bed, leaning over him. One pale gold eye cracked open, studied her with a feigned air of disinterest for the briefest of moments and then quickly closed. A grin flit across her features before the Warrior hummed thoughtfully, stifling her grin. "Well, then I guess I _suppose_ I could slow down enough for an old man to keep up." 

* * *

Priscilla went from roof to roof, snagging spires to balance herself and enjoying both the view and the exhilaration of the precarious slopes. Her breath steamed around the edges of her mask, and she swung around to look back at where the Ascian was... Not -quite- flying. He was definitely doing -something- that slowed his descent, momentum making him drift across the gap from roof top to rooftop in between running jumps.

To avoid suspicion, he had worked his coat into something a little less likely to scream Garlemald and a little more likely to be ignored. The people of Ishgard were used to Dragoons vaulting from roof to roof, protecting them from flying foes. Without any alarum or panic involved, they were barely given a glance before they had moved on. Estinien, in his red armor, came to check on them but kept a distance when she waved and hollered out a greeting. 

"Y'know, I was worried you'd be cold but I just remembered that Ilsabard's, what, -mostly- snow?"

"We do have -seasons-. The winter months simply last longer than they might elsewhere. Discounting, of course, the frozen portions of Coerthas." Waving a hand, the Ascian carefully picked his way up the slope and balanced on the peak of the roof. "You seem to have a better grip on your Blessing, to be able to pull on just enough of one aspect of it to keep yourself warm."

"It was easier once I had all've them. I can balance it out, if I start pulling too much." The mask was pulled up and around until it rested against the side of her head. Grinning over at him, she wove a few steps along the peak of the roof, stepping around the spikes that prevented larger creatures from landing on it. "Did I tell you why I like heights yet?"

"A very long time ago. Something to the effect of being on top of the world. _Literally_." One hand came out to try and steady her, and she snickered as she took it. "Other than that, you once admitted to me that it also felt right. As though it allowed you to survey your domain and ensure all was well within it."

She blinked at him, before clearing her throat as he shifted and tucked his foot into a gap between the spikes between her feet. Balanced easily (and perhaps floating just enough to ensure he wouldn't slip and tumble) he tucked his other hand against the small of her back. A slight tug and spin pulled her along, and she snapped her eyes down to avoid stepping on his toes or booting a spike during their impromptu waltz along the ridge. "Not _wrong_ , per say. It's the feeling of the wind. Everything else just... Sort've falls away. Like it doesn't matter."

"As someone who has enjoyed the view from a variety of lofty vantage points, some of them created specifically for that very purpose, I believe I understand what you mean." Leading her along to where the roof joined with another, he lightly kicked off and pulled her against him as they drifted lazily along to the next roof, where she cheekily grinned and started to lead. 

"Y'know, if we keep this up folk might start to stare and talk."

The Ascian smirked, before pulling her against him once more as they came to rest along an eaves trough. "Shall I give them a variety of topics then?"

"Like what, the colour of your tights under your robes?"

"Brat." The word was fond, and the only warning she had as he dipped his head to kiss her soundly.

* * *

The sun had started to set by the time they got back to the Fortemps manner. True to form, Priscilla scrambled down from the roof to pick the lock on her window and pulled it closed after Emet-Selch had followed her in. She had just gotten her boots off and set them by the door when someone politely knocked on the glass, prompting her to turn. A familiar silhouette greeted her, and she made her way back over to open it as the Ascian lounged on her bed. 

"Are you done pissing around for the day."

"Hello to you too, Estinien. Come on in." Rolling her eyes, the Warrior stepped aside only to pause as he shook his head and raised a hand. "What's up?"

"The three you told me to keep watch for. They entered the city. One split from the others, obviously wounded, and as you suggested I waited until he collapsed before taking him to a healer. We took care of their pursuers, as well." 

"Wh- When did this happen?" Turning, she ran and grabbed her boots, heading back to the window and hopping slightly as she worked to put them on along the way. "You should've told me!"

"I tried to. You decided to cavort across the rooftops instead." 

"I -waved-! Twelve, that was an invitation to approach if you wanted to!" Hauling herself onto the windowsill, she looked back at where the Architect was watching her with a quirked brow. "It's Fray."

"Ah. Fret not, I will rest here for the time being. You know how to garner my attention should you need it." 

She beamed at him, before pulling her mask properly into place and closing the window behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm going to take a tiny, miniscule amount of a break. Not because I don't want to write, but because I feel like an idiot in that I could have written a -book- by now for my own universe setting. And I've written half of one, sure, but I keep just not writing it and writing this instead.  
> If I can do 60k words in two weeks, I can finish my first book and go from there.  
> See you on the flip side  
> -Forcy


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, if you haven't done the DRK quests yet, uhh... Spoilers ahead. If you want to skip the chunk where they are, the spoiler free chunk starts at 'The Sea of Clouds was pretty'

Meeting Fray had been a _treat_. Not only because he was exactly as she had imagined him, but because he was the -saltiest- conjurer she had ever met. They got along incredibly well, right up until the point that he looked her in the eye from where she had smuggled him a flask of booze and asked her what, exactly, the _fuck_ she was. 

It had made her pause, and all the jocularity in the air had evaporated as if someone had opened a window and did their damnedest to waft a fart free. 

"I'm a hyur-"

"Sodding _bullshit_." Taking a swig, he then gestured to her. "There's eyes in your shadow."

"I-..." Blinking rapidly, the Warrior sat back in her chair and studied him. She realized then, that everything she knew about him was post his death, absorbed from the singular soulstone she had ever found in her life and given up. The echo of a dead man that had -stuck- with her. "Let me show you a magic trick then, yeah?"

And then Fray, _her_ Fray and Myste, hauled themselves out of her shadow.

It was a hell've a conversation after that. She told him the truth. All of it, every little bit that had to do with him, and then admitted that he'd helped her keep hold of herself on an entirely different -world-. That she had arranged for him to be saved to pay a debt she couldn't have otherwise. That she was incomplete without the part of her that the barest echo of his aether had helped shape. Her Fray lounged in the background, idly picking dirt out of the boots near the door and scattering it around the ground, for no good reason at all even as her Myste gently chided him. 

He announced he wasn't drunk enough for what he was seeing, and she had laughed and offered him her flask. When he handed it back, it was empty. 

"So what happens now then. You go your way, I go mine, and you, what, send me postcards?" 

"Actually, I was hoping I might be able to commission you, Sid and the wee lass. There's a number of things I need to do, and I need some trustworthy people to help me work through them. The dragoon that helped you, he's one of those trustworthy people. I know, he's a crunchy bastard, but he's got Aymeric in his back pocket, so to speak." Blithely innocent, the Warrior internalized any snickering at her own joke and upended the empty flask, letting out a mournful sigh. "I know, that you're going to do the right thing regardless of what other folk say, which is why I feel confident in offering these things to you and the other two to do."

"You're saying you know the path."

"Because we -do-." Her Fray snorted from nearby as the blue-haired Myste fidgeted. "Well, -we- do. We remember it all. And we can travel separately. We can fill them in on everything, and, umm... Offer proof." 

"I'm telling you now, you're gunna -hate- the moogles." Priscilla leaned back, stretching. "It's one thing to be told it. You're going to have to understand it proper-like. To which, I'll lend you them for the time being until I need them back."

"How will I know when you need them back, then?" Fray, living, proper Fray, slowly flexed his fingers as he narrowed his eyes at her. 

"Because they'll disappear without warning."

* * *

When she clambered back in through the window, she could feel the eyes upon her. Turning, she offered a faint smile to the glaring Ascian and waved, before clearing her throat. "Hey, Hades, I'm ba-"

"That trick wasn't -clever- when it was birds, and I find it rather more _distressing_ now due to your current incomplete state. Go back out there and recover your missing pieces."

"Ah. I'd thought you might say something like that. Sorry, but I can't do that. There's some things I need to make sure get done, while I'm being a distraction." She smiled faintly, removing her mask and setting it on the table nearby. "You know all the stuff I wasn't able to get done? My Fray's gunna wear my face, travel with the _real_ Fray, and see to some things."

"By your own admission, the construct that you create is inherently flawed, lacking your demeanor. There is also the very _temporary_ nature of your 'Fray'." Winter gold eyes narrowed as Emet-Selch sat up on the bed and swung over the side so that he could rest his elbows on his knees and sigh at her. 

"Well, yeah, but that's why I sent Myste with them. Myste was able to survive away from me, separate from me for a lot longer."

"Myste by all accounts held half of the soulstone."

"Yeah, and now they've got access to the -whole- soulstone. The real Fray's got it, after all." Stretching, Priscilla meandered over, turning to flop back onto the bed beside him. "They're stable. They'll be fine while they work. It's not forever, but I need more -hands-. I can't be everywhere at once, and you're still _stuck_." 

"Not as much progress as I would have otherwise liked on that front, either." The Ascian grimaced, before slowly reclining backwards until he was prone as well. "The matter is a difficult one in and of itself. Lahabrea, surprisingly enough, made an attempt himself and rather _spectacularly_ failed." 

"No way, really?" Perking up, the Warrior partially rolled onto her side to better see him, propping her head up on a hand. "I'm surprised. Well, I mean I was surprised when he came to pick me up in your skyslipper too, but that's... You must've made a compelling argument."

"For all his many faults, the Speaker _did_ at one point have two braincells to rub together." Tutting, Emet-Selch tilted his head to watch her as she smiled at him. "I can see the way your aether jitters. Whatever is the matter -now-."

"Being honest? I want to use you as a pillow, and while I dunno if that'd be appropriate I'm more worried about making you uncomfortable."

He huffed, before scooping an arm around her and pulling her against his side.

* * *

The Sea of Clouds was pretty much how she remembered it, right down to the Garleans. She was certain she was recognized by them, but they also tended to try and avoid her so she wasn't entirely certain. She -also- wasn't certain which island it was that had held the key, but conferring with the Vanu Vanu informed her it had already been swallowed, which had made her wonderings somewhat moot. When Cid struck upon the notion of fishing for the whale with an island, she had lit up and grinned at the memories before blinking as Emet-Selch stepped out of a rift. 

"You _do_ realize that such a risk is unnecessary, correct?"

"Well, I mean yeah, we could try and get you to let us into the place but c'mon." Priscilla spread her arms and gestured to the area around her. "How many times in your life are you -ever- going to be able to say that you went fishing for a -whale- in the _sky_ with a floating island!"

He rolled his eyes at that, and they went forward with the plan. She didn't confirm it after, but she was fairly certain that he was watching her during the dance between the Vanu, the twin serpents, the water droplets and Bismark's corona while drinking some sort of drink with a little yellow umbrella in it. Once the key manifested, she stuffed it down her shirt and turned to watch as Igeyorhm stepped out of a rift with Thordan. 

Even as the Martyr's hand came out, Priscilla hacked downwards with a blade to sunder through the spell, and then grinned as the Ascian looked shocked. 

"Hey. Funny thing about sneak attacks, they don't really work out the same when they're expected." A grin was hidden beneath her mask, and she flourished one blade. A thought occurred to her, and she frowned as she tuned out whatever the former religious leader of Ishgard was saying. It would be a risk. It might even be a gamble, because it was going to be a far more drastic change.

If she could... Well. It would certainly end a lot of things early. And it wasn't as if Aymeric would -blame- her. 

She saluted Igeyorhm, before surging across the expanse. The first blow was made just shy of the elezen, hacking through the barrier she had expected the Ascian to erect before the second came out and dipped through the fine robes. The bottom portion of his beard was sheared off, and he staggered back a step as she pursued. The offhand blade swung again, clacking against the mass of ice that swept her to the side before she grimaced and stepped around the resulting boulder-sized chunk. A pivot gave her momentum, and as the rift opened around the two she hurled one of her blades. 

It sank into Thordan's chest to the hilt as darkness enveloped him, and Priscilla turned and scrambled along the chains that connected the ship to the island. "Cid! Cid drop the rock and come about, gain some altitude!"

"What the hells just happened?" Turning, the Garlean scientist reluctantly relinquished the helm to Emet-Selch, who waved him along. "Was that the Archbishop?"

"It was, and he's got my sword!" A technicality, considering he had it _in his chest_ , but still. She clung to the boat and worked the chains free on her side as they dropped from Cid's. "They're not far out, and I don't know where they're going!"

"From what I recall, this was _not_ part of the original plan." The Ascian idly kept the airship level, before stepping aside once Garlond was scrambling back. "I am curious to see how this goes."

"Yeah, I had a thought you know." Hauling herself over the railing, the Warrior stretched and then gestured. "There's some things that need to come about, but I'm going about this all wrong. I've been waffling back and forth trying to get things to match but they're never _going_ to. Not -really-. Take right now as an example. The Garleans that were supposed to be here? There's barely any, and I'm -pretty- sure I saw Zenos' ship earlier. He's supposed to be in Doma, and it was supposed to be- Varis? I think?- well someone _else_ at least. Van Hydrus?" 

Priscilla took a moment to point to give Cid a heading even as she wracked her brain. "Not the most important, though Van Hydrus was a surprisingly decent person. Without Azys Lla, Ysayle doesn't die, is the point I'm getting to. And don't repeat that I said that, alright Cid? I know you're smart, so you're probably half-way through figuring out what I'm going on about."

"I had wondered how long it would take before you abandoned your plan. I seem to recall some mention of your relationship with such a concept to be spotty at best." Emet-Selch shifted to fold his arms and lean against a railing. "I will withdraw for now. You _are_ fighting other Ascians, after all, and I have other projects to work on."

"Alright." She flashed him a grin, before looking out to spot the airship that was rapidly retreating. "I just hope they don't rift the whole damn thing away before I get my sword back."

* * *

The Enterprise wasn't, perhaps, the -fastest- ship on all of Hydaelyn, but Cid had worked on her for years. Countless little tweaks and upgrades had customized her to give him the best chance to escape a conflict, and each and every one of them was now put to the test. All that meant, really, was that they were _gaining_ , and when he turned to ask her how she planned on sneaking up on the Archbishop's vessel, he hesitated and simply shook his head. There was always something, and if she was confident about her chosen path then he had long since learned to take what she advised at face value. 

Everything seemed to work out, when he did. 

"What's our plan, Warrior?"

"You're going to get on their ass and then I'm going to jump across. I can make a twenty foot gap from below no problem. After, well... I dunno. Try not to get shot down at that point, I guess." A hand lifted to sheepishly rub at the back of her head before she ambled up to the nose of the airship. "And don't worry if I -miss-. Just... Yeah. Just drop down to the ground and pick me up. I know it's hard to believe, but I'd be fine. A little sore, but fine."

"There's a lot of things you have done that I wouldn't believe anyone capable of, but if you mean to say-"

"-That plummeting from malms and malms above the ground and sticking a landing is something I can do? Yeah. That's exactly what I mean to say." She sounded like she was grimacing, before she gestured vaguely. "I've fallen off of Azys Lla before. Not -pleasant- by any stretch've the imagination, but I still walked away from it and managed to keep the boat I'd stolen from getting broken too."

"So you can then. See the future."

"Eh, it's complicated. But I -will- say this. You and Nero put what I've got to shame, you built something that actually traveled to the past." Priscilla ambled over and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Should find him after this. He might've defected by now."

Cid grimaced at that. There were more pressing matters, after all. "Any idea why they haven't spotted us yet? I thought you said Ascians can feel people."

"Oh. Yeah, if anyone looked out the ass end of their ship they'd -see- us but that's the thing about relying on just one sense. I'm doing a thing, don't worry about it."

"Well, best get ready to do something else. We're almost on them."

"Sorry in advance for the railing." She snickered, and then settled a few fulms away from the nose of the ship. The creak of rigging from the Archbishop's ship was audible at their current distance, and as Cid hauled back on the wheel to sharply angle the nose up Priscilla took a running leap. The railing crunched as she kicked off from it, and there was a secondary thunk as she impacted against the bottom of the other ship. The Enterprise careened to the side as her pilot brought her around, avoiding an impact and drawing startled shouts from the knights. 

Gritting his teeth, he hoped she hadn't missed as he peeled off and gained more altitude. 

* * *

Climbing up the hull was an adventure in and of itself. Now that she wasn't blanketing Cid and his airship, she could devote her time and aether to other things. Firstly, to finding a porthole and then clinging to the wood beside it and taking a moment to _listen_. 

It was there alright. The other Eye. The mental map she made of the airship made it feel as though it was center and in the underbelly, which meant she would have to probably get to it from the top. A grimace wrinkled her nose before she started to scale the side, and the tone of the shouting changed drastically as she rolled over the railing. Flashes of light surrounded her and she got to work, stepping around and making her way to where the Archbishop was seated and a healer was trying to pull the blade out of his chest. He didn't look good, but she didn't have enough time to really stop and survey the terrain. The knights were almost finished with their transformations, after all. 

A quick step had her hauling the sword out, and another had her swinging to block a greatsword that came for her. It was slid away to the side, and she couldn't help but laugh as they formed up and forced her away from the elezen who's breath rattled in his chest. As they settled, she saluted and then bolted, rushing for the stairs down. It wasn't quite fast enough to go unseen, and shouting chased after her as she rolled over the stone coffin and touched down on the other side. A shove removed the lid, and she re-drew one sword a lance jabbed out over the coffin to slide it aside. 

"She's after the eye!"

"Well, yes, but actually no." A grin crossed her face, hidden behind the mask as she gathered herself to raise one blade before hacking down into the coffin. The eye popped, and the Warrior took advantage of the outrage to turn and use her free hand to unlatch and shove open the porthole. Pain caught along her side, but she ignored both the spearhead and the sound of tearing cloth as she scrambled out and stabbed into the wood of the ship. 

Fire bloomed around her, and she coughed her way through it and drew her offhand sword. She made it a full two fulms before she hauled herself to one of the smaller stabilization flanges, ignoring the second wash of heat. Hacking through it, Priscilla grunted and twisted to swat at the incoming spear as the lancer leaned out of the porthole she had escaped through. Another few fulms as the ship rolled and rocked, it's captain attempting to shake her off, and she was able to swing one blade at the engine. 

She didn't do enough damage to do more than cripple it with the first strike, much to her displeasure, and as the airship rolled once more her sword came free of the wood. Starting into a freefall, she grimaced and then put both swords together, lobbing them at the engine and grinning as it sputtered and whined above her. A plume of smoke wafted out as it went into a dive, and she twisted and flattened herself out to get as much drag as she could before letting out a surprised grunt at the sleek, reflective metal hull that crossed her view. The nose edged under her, and the Warrior scrabbled for purchase as one of the soldiers that was tethered to a railing attempted to throw her a line. 

She caught it, wrapped it around both of her forearms and grunted at the impact against the ship as it turned and started to level out. 

A crash echoed through the air, and the Warrior got her feet against the hull so that she could lean out and see here the Archbishop's airship had crashed into a mountain. The line in her grasp jerked, and she snapped her focus to the soldier who was starting to try and reel her in. Above, she caught sight of the Enterprise slowly drifting down, and grimaced before nodding and doing what she could to climb and meet the soldier part way. 


	33. Chapter 33

"Aren't you supposed to be in Doma?" Priscilla grimaced as she waved at Cid, trying to imply that it was safe enough for him to come reasonably close without having a linkpearl. Standing atop the hull of the largely stationary airship, she had tethered the line she had previously been thrown around her waist to free up her hands, and huffed as she heard the snap of a carabiner as the Legatus of the XIIth hauled himself out of the hatch and secured himself to the ship. 

"There was a change in plans. Doma holds nothing for me, and Yotsuyu is a passingly capable Regent. Come now, have you no words of thanks for your saviour? Without my orders to intervene, you would be a smear on the mountain."

"You didn't save my life, you ruined my death." Still, she was grinning, and as she turned to survey him she had to stifle a snicker. He was hauling his sword revolver out of the hatch and attaching it to the waist of his armor. "Have to get someone to pass it up to you?"

"A standard sized hatch lacks the width." Annoyance coloured his tone, for all that he was helmeted, and he tested his line to the ship to make sure it wasn't about to come loose. 

"Seven Hells, I'm surprised it fit your bustle." Stretching slightly, the Warrior sighed and deliberately turned her back to him, leaning and peering at the wreckage. "I'm not much good to you right now. My swords're down there somewhere, so if you want a fight you're gunna have to give me some time to fetch them. I could probably beat you with them at this point."

"Oh, but now you _tempt_ me, my Beast. No, I am tasked with recovering the Key to an Allagan ruin. By the reports, your flying sky-whale devoured it's resting place. As you have now killed it..."

"Now you want me to hand over the key. If I didn't give it to them, why would I give it to you?" A nod was offered to the wreckage before she turned to peer over her shoulder at the approaching footsteps. 

"Because you are unarmed, and I am not." One hand rested on the hilt of one of his two swords, and by the intricacy of the hilt she recognized it as the Swell. "You will give it to me, or we will see to the truth of your claim with or without your blades."

Priscilla canted her head to the side before laughing. 

"Come and get me then."

Two steps back had her at the edge of the ship, the steely rasp of one sword being freed chasing her as she loosened the lead around her waist and kicked off. The friction burned through the gloves on her hands as she used it and the hull as a guideline, right until it went loose. Scrambling against the side of the ship, she caught herself on a metal flange before tying off her end of the rope and sliding down the length that Zenos had so kindly cut loose for her. It took a moment of working her bodyweight back and forth to start swinging, and once she had a little bit of momentum out towards the crash she let go and started to plummet. 

She had two incredibly important things that would go into a safe landing. Three, if she counted the terrain. The first, was extensive years and practice falling from rooftops and cliffs alike. There was training involved there, how to hit, how to splay and how to orient herself on the way down. The classic 'Hero' landing was the -worst- for the knees, and generally dissuaded. The second, was the way she could strengthen her body with her blessing. When she hit the slope, she went into a slide and dug in with a pair of daggers, digging in with the metal capped boots she had always considered a necessity. They might have ever so slightly reduced the grip she had on surfaces, but they also prevented her from breaking any toes when she went sliding down the side of a mountain. 

A quick bolt up to the ruins of the ship, and the Warrior had sheathed her daggers and recovered her swords. A body count turned up everyone aboard except for Thordan had died in the crash, which was worrying in it's own way, and the approaching hum of engines had her glancing up to catch the Garlean Crown Prince rappelling down from the side of his ship. She offered him a salute as he touched down and dug in a blade to anchor himself against the steep slope. 

"Hey, lookit that. Almost a graceful landing, I'd say." Priscilla tucked both blades under one arm so that she could clap. "You sure you wanna do this here though?"

"Do not think me at a disadvantage simply due to the terrain, my friend." The blonde swordsman sounded like he was grinning, and unclipped the carabiner from his waist to let the line dangle free. Adjusting his stance, he pulled the Swell from the ground and then leveled it at her. "You will give me the key."

"I'll enjoy the pretense for why we're fighting, is what I'll do." The Warrior dipped into a fancy bow, cycling through options and discarding them all in favour of simply closing the gap. She kicked off of the steeply angled rock behind her to get her over both the slash and Garlean, before touching down behind him. One blade dug into the slope for purchase as the other came across in a horizontal swipe. Zenos tried to catch himself as the stone under him collapsed, and instead turned to use the momentum to lunge at her. A quick swipe to the side knocked it wide and they were both off in a half-slide, half run down the face of the mountain. 

Both airships kept a little bit of a distance, for all that they followed the pair. The blonde swordsman had a greater reach with the length of his arm and the length of his sword, but Priscilla had two weapons and far more mobility. Even when the Swell surged out of him, ruining her run towards him, she caught herself and kept from going into a tumble. He only caught her off guard when he started to take the fight seriously, and as ever she was surprised with how fast he could move when he had a mind to. 

Twelve, but his footwork was incredible. Even weighted down by his armor and the unwieldly sword caddy he continuously kept himself faced towards her. Quick-stepping and controlling the portions he was sliding by rocking his weight one way or another, using his free hand to guide him along the side of the mountain was something that Priscilla certainly couldn't do if she didn't want to possibly lose a finger. Every time they clashed and she thought she had tipped him over, he recovered and gave chase. 

It was exhilarating, really, right up until neither of them had any mountain to slide down. He was the first to realize, considering she had worked her way further up so that she could line up another run at him when what she thought was just another steep dip ejected him out over a wide cave entrance that extended down to the ground. Sheathing both swords, she put on a burst of speed and jumped out after him. His focus had snapped down at the ground, far and away below him and then back to her as she muckled onto the front of his armor. 

She only had a few seconds to plan ahead. The ground was still sloped, but went into a ravine. Putting her feet against his chest, she pivoted and kicked, sending him slamming into the rapidly approaching cliff on an upwards angle to alter his momentum immediately before hitting the flat floor of the ravine with her back and a wet thud. Pain exploded through her, and she wheezed as she felt her Blessing surge through her. 

A second impact landed near her with a grunt, and she pushed through the haze as she felt her ribs fix themselves, one of her legs shifting and orienting properly as the bones straightened. 

"... You... You okay... Kid...?"

A rough, laugh answered her as unsteady steps approached. "Two broken ribs, and I believe I have broken my left tibia. You hit the ground with much greater force, how are you still conscious?"

"Remember that thing about me being a -special- Warrior of light?" The pain had washed away under the adrenaline that surged through her, and the Warrior rolled to put her feet under her and pushed herself up. A pat-down confirmed that she was intact, though one of her blades had snapped at the hilt where she had crushed it into the ground. Clearing her throat, she brushed herself off and eyed him, fixing her mask. "You good to continue?"

* * *

"What the hells were you thinking?" Cid gripped the wheel as Priscilla sprawled out across the deck of the Enterprise, glancing back periodically to make sure the Garlean airship was still stationary. 

"That it was about time we'd fought again, and that the only way I was gunna get him to leave the key alone would be to beat him with it as the prize." 

"You should be dead-"

"Buuuut I'm not." The Warrior cut him off with a grimace and a wave of a hand. "See why I was so supportive of you fishing for Bismark with me on a floating island? Look, just... It's a flawed thing that I've got, but it comes in handy sometimes."

"Then you should have let that monster die." Another check confirmed, yet again, that the Garlean vessel was still back where it had settled. "Zenos is a-"

"Fucked up individual? Alright. Look. He's also essentially my great grandkid too, but don't go sharing that. I'm trying some things out, to give him an outlet for his need for violence and to give him some socialization that'll help him stop just... Randomly killing people. Guy's got a -code-, after all, though it's a pretty lose one." Pulling her mask free, Priscilla scrubbed a hand over her face and then peered at the head of the Ironworks. "Just trust me on this one, alright? It'll work out."

"... Fine. Where to?"

"North east of the Vundu Vundu lands, and then keep going." At his inquisitive glance, she shrugged and fished the key out from her shirt. "It's where Azys Lla is. I don't need the key to give me a location I already know about, just to get me through the barrier."

* * *

The barrier let them through without issue, sealing behind them. Cid looked on with wide eyes as she pointed out what each section was called, and what it was for. She described the primals, the plans they had to get free and then let him know where Tiamat and her brood were. They avoided that part for the time being, and as she disembarked she told him she would be back the next day. He agreed to wait as long as he could, and she gestured to one of the more harmless drones that sat nearby so that he could have something to spend his time on. 

She knew the doors only opened for her now because of the key she carried. Her footsteps echoed loudly in the vaulted, empty halls. Those few experiments that had gotten free were swiftly dispatched, and she went from one teleporter to another before realizing her path forward would be blocked by the most mundane of things. Emet-Selch and the other Ascians had spent a fair bit of time repairing the floating prison and making it safe, which meant she encountered doors that were warped and sealed shut, blocked passages and halls that came to abrupt holes where debris had torn through the hill and taken out sections. 

It took longer than she expected to find what she was looking for. The door stubbornly refused to open, even with the key, so she took a liberty and wedged the blade of her broken sword into where she knew the crack was and then heaved. There was a groan from the metal before it gave, and she wiggled her way into the darkened rooms. Familiar track lighting hummed to life, giving it a low level of illumination and helping her find the couch. 

It was just as comfortable as she remembered. There, though that door was a kitchen. Through that one, a bedroom. That wall there, would eventually lose a large section that would become a balcony door. Eventually, a piano and a bench would be made out of a chair and... 

And that was where the lute he had made from a book used to sit. And there, that was where the door to Urianger's study had been made, that section expanded out to give him a personal study space to keep his notes in. And there, an armor stand existed in the echo of her memory that held a set of Garlean full plate. And there, and there, and there... 

Priscilla pushed herself up to wander into the kitchen. The sliding, folding door moved easily out of the way as she nudged it aside, before she crossed the distance and ran her fingers along the edge of the wooden table bolted to the floor. Home to aether practice, to black and white robed figures sharing pancakes and rotating meal duties. To both early and late night coffee and tea. 

Stepping further into the room, she pulled herself onto the counter and opened one of the cupboards. She knew every carefully placed mug by the felt-out shape, and picked out the three that were the most important to her before carefully climbing down and closing the cupboard. The steps to the kitchen door weren't counted, nor were the ones that padded her along the soft, plush carpet in the living room and then finally into the bedroom. 

The Warrior settled in the middle of the overly large bed and curled around the mugs, staring into the darkness of the silent room that was filled with remembered banter. 


	34. Chapter 34

Priscilla woke up to something that was both familiar and unfamiliar. First, she registered the softness of the surface she was on. That, was familiar. Second, there was a warmth at her back, partially wrapped around her and ever so faintly -snoring-. That too, was familiar. The third was a collection of smooth, hard objects she herself had curled around, and it took her a moment to recognize them by touch as _mugs_. The question of -why- nagged at her, and she felt around for wetness in the event she had spilled anything. It was dry, which was surprising, so she abandoned the mugs and worked herself around to bury her nose in the furred collar that smelled like _home_. Urianger was probably just in his study, and perhaps Hades was dressed because he had... Well, she didn't really know, but maybe he had just been too lazy. 

The body she wrapped an arm around stopped snoring and stiffened. She contemplated asking what was -wrong- before Emet-Selch adjusted his arm around her lower back to pull her tighter against him with a subvocal grumble. Content and happy to doze like that, the Warrior let her mind drift. She didn't know how long they laid there in the darkness, but after a moment she found herself a little worried. A vague sense of _listening_ filled the air, and she stirred when she realized she didn't know where the astrologian was-

The Ascian's arm tightened around her once more, and she belatedly remembered that he wasn't an astrologian, but still a scholar. He wasn't going to join them, at least not any time soon. And Hades... 

Things fell into place, and she tilted her head up to peer at him in the darkness. There was a vague silhouette of the side of his face and his ear, thanks to the track lighting that ran along the edges of the floor, but it wasn't bright enough to let her see anything else. Priscilla shifted her arm from his side so that she could trace the features of his face, drawing a quietly disgruntled noise. 

"... Do you _mind_ , until you moved I was blessedly _unconscious_."

"I mean, until I moved I was out cold too." She idly tapped his nose, and felt it wrinkle at her teasing tone. "How long ago did you get in?"

"If I say less than a bell, will you refrain from -pestering- me so that I can pretend nothing outside of this room exists and go back to my nap?"

"No matter what you say, I'll let you sleep." A smile quirked the corners of her lips upwards as she smoothed some of his hair back. A thoughtful hum answered her, before he sighed. 

"Nearly four bells ago."

"Loads of time then. I promised Cid I'd be back sometime todayish, tomorrowish, thereabouts." Scooping her arm around his side, the Warrior closed her eyes and snuggled against the Garlean. "I make no promises for how long I'll doze."

"At this point, I am rather keen to simply take whatever I can get."

* * *

Two bells later found the Warrior in the kitchen. Two of the mugs were replaced, leaving Emet-Selch's preferred container by the kettle as she waited for the water to boil. A quick scavenge had turned up an utter lack of supplies and a box of instant coffee. The handful of Allagan words she had picked up had served her well, though she didn't know whether or not it would be any good. Food, to the best of her knowledge, expired after all. Well, maybe this stuff hadn't. Maybe their technology had been able to preserve it, or make an immortal coffee. 

It certainly hadn't really smelled like what she remembered. There was only the faintest whiff of the familiar bitter smell, but that there was any at all gave her some semblance of hope. A yawn behind her drew her attention to the Ascian as he wandered in and then peered blearily at her. 

"... I _do_ hope you realize that what you intend to use is far beyond any 'use by' date known to mankind." 

"I was hoping I'd be able to salvage it if I added enough." A sheepish smile was shot his way, and pale gold eyes rolled in response. "I know what it tastes like, and it just... Well, it tasted super faint." 

The Ascian grimaced and made his way over, picking up the open packet and lifting it to gingerly sniff at it. His grimace deepened, before he cupped one hand over it and narrowed his eyes in focus. The light, faded brown grains abruptly darkened, and she leaned to shut the kettle off and then mostly fill his mug with water. He leaned around her to dump the darkened instant coffee in and then reached to collect a spoon, using it to stir the mix as she passed him the cup. "Transmutation serves well enough to restore the flavour. Although, I must admit that of all the things invented over the long years, instant coffee that lasts for centuries and millennia ought to have been one of them."

"I was thinking Allag was one of those super decadent civilizations that probably -did-, but I've been proven wrong it seems." Priscilla leaned back against the counter as Emet-Selch returned to the table and pulled out a chair. Sitting down, he sighed and circled a finger through the air, idly watching the spoon swirl around in the cup as it followed the motion. "So how's coffee help with aetheric exhaustion?"

"It makes me -feel- better." The answer was as dry as toast, and she laughed easily as she came over and pulled out a chair for herself. The Ascian watched her and settled one elbow on the table, propping his chin up on it with a sigh. "I find myself rather surprised. Considering the extent of the damage, I did not think there would be much in the way of civilian creature comforts. And yet, power and water are both accessible."

"Technically not water. Tap wouldn't produce anything, so I used water from my canteen."

"Hmm. 'Tis a hole in the pipes somewhere then." One gloved hand waved idly before he picked up the mug and took a cautious sip. A contemplative look settled across his face before he shrugged. "What was your purpose in coming here?"

"Nostalgia, mostly. I didn't... I dunno. I still felt like maybe I'd hallucinated most of it, the visions? There's things here that I couldn't possibly have faked though." Stretching idly, she toed at the bracing crossbars between the legs of the chair and fought the urge to rock it back onto two feet with practiced ease. "I mean I also wanted to check on where the primals were at, and if possible take care of them before they start getting free. 'Cause, you know. That's something they -do-. Sophia's and Zurvan's folks, I think." 

"Ahh, yes, the Warring Triad."

"And -then- I need to talk to Tiamat. Not that I think it'll do much, considering it was Lahabrea who convinced her to come around and help, but still." The Warrior wiggled her nose before settling her elbows on the table so that she could study Emet-Selch. "What about you? Any plans?"

"A brief bit of respite before I return to my work. If it wasn't so mentally exhausting I might be making more headway. As things stand, I doubt I will be able to do as you ask within the next few years." A grimace soured his expression before he took a sip of his coffee. "'Tis by and large due to the fact that any time I attempt to make proper progress, I essentially sabotage myself. There are limits, it seems, to the resistance my feelings for you offer."

"Thaaat's..." Priscilla dragged the word out, stalling for time as she tried to pick her next ones carefully. "... nnnot really helpful, unfortunately. I mean, if I was going to need your help in a decade that'd be grand, but I don't know that we're really going to have that kind of time. I kind of need you sooner than that. I know, I know, you already know that." 

The bitter glare he shot at her over the edge of his mug softened, defused as she lifted her hands. It fell into another grimace as he slowly lowered his drink, dropping his gaze to watch the liquid within as he idly turned the handle about. "You have 'regained' some level of power. All six crystals are within your possession, and some are more powerful than others due to absorbing more aether from the primals you have slain."

"I have. If anything, I'm probably more powerful than I was last time, considering I've got two primal's worth of aether in some've them. Like Bismark. That was wind aspected that I got from him, and it went right into the crystal I took from Garuda, straight away." Leaning forward, she ducked her head to get a better look at his face and smiled slightly. "I think I follow. I just need to be able to see, and I've got the Sharlayan goggles. Sure they're clunky, but it should get the job done."

"Do you _realize_ what you are asking of-?" The words were spat out, bitter as the Ascian tightened his grip around the mug. It creaked quietly, and he shuddered as her arms came around him in a hug from behind. 

"I know. And I know you know I know. We've talked about why it's important that I don't, 'cause lots of things can go wrong." Her hug tightened slightly as she tucked her face against the side of his neck, and blew out a soft sigh. "I'm not trying to push. I don't want to hurt you. Though, I mean I just had an idea." 

He grimaced at that, relaxing his grip on the mug before lifting it to take a sip with an inquisitive sound.

"What if, I did it to Lahabrea first? Let me finish-" She gently jostled him as he went stiff in her arms once more. "-let me finish, this way, you can make sure I can -aim-, right?"

"You are _pushing_."

"Sorry, sorry..."

* * *

"If you are going to fight a primal, you may as well be armed for it." 

Priscilla perked up, part-way through her exploration and attempting to figure out how to release Sephirot when the Architect spoke up behind her. Turning, she brightened when she noted a familiar black blade in his grasp and accepted it by the offered hilt. "Ah! Yeah, I broke one've the swords by landing on it wrong." 

"You also might as well get down there. 'Tis hardly enough time for you to set the process in motion and make it down if you somehow even succeeded at the former." One hand waved as Emet-Selch shoed her away from the console. She grinned at him, before saluting crisply and taking off as he rolled his eyes. It only took a handful of seconds for him to prime everything, and he folded his arms as he tracked the way her aether raced along corridors. "Do you think she realized you were close, when she made her suggestion?"

A rift rippled open beside him before a black robed figure stepped out. Shaking his head, Lahabrea fought down a sneer as he folded his arms. "Considering I still lack information on the depth of her power, it would not surprise me. Do you think she will clear the entirety of the Warring Triad from Azys Lla today?"

"I think she intends to try. Whether or not she succeeds, well..." She was almost there. There was another straight hallway before she would find herself at the door, and the press of a few keys cracked it open as she neared. "The depth of her power remains to be seen. It is akin to studying a pre-assembled engine and attempting to determine the top sustainable speed."

"Has she mentioned an upper limit?" Leaning forward, the Speaker scowled at the display as the Warrior stretched in preparation. 

"Only that she believes she may be stronger than she was when she previously reached this point." The glowing chains and sphere vanished, dropping the primal down. Emet-Selch sighed and rested his hands on the edge of the console. "She is, unfortunately, something of an _unreliable_ narrator."

They stood there and watched her dodge and weave around the multi-armed mass for a time, before Sephirot vanished and multiple chunks of rock manifested and attempted to beat up the Warrior. It was sort of like watching a half a dozen mice attempting to kill a cat. She went back and forth, swatting and hacking before the last of them went down. 

"Elidibus suspects."

"Of _course_ he does." The Architect slumped, muttering bitterly for a moment before shaking his head. "Then she is right. I am running out of time. What of you? You lack my affection for her, and yet seem content to keep from _outing_ my attempts immediately. 'Tis one thing to convince him that I simply intend to report back on her progress while being allowed in her presence, and quite another to actively attempt to shuck my Tempering."

Lahabrea smiled thinly, sharp and cold as a knife. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coffee, if stored in a cool, dark, dry place in an airtight package, can be used beyond it's expiry date. Canned, a few months, whole bean up to nine. Instant, up to twenty years.  
> It's, uhh... Been a bit longer than that for what's in Emet-Selch's cupboards, but still. The thought is there.


	35. Chapter 35

_"A test, then."_

_"I was the first, before. If such a fate befalls me once more-"_

_"It -won't-."_

* * *

Priscilla had exactly zero seconds of forewarning before a patch of pitch black bloomed around her. Instinct had her diving to the side and slamming into the wall of the corridor, before she slipped back down one boot touched the edge of the sucking darkness, and she curled to make a smaller target of herself as it abruptly exploded. The concussive force of it slammed her against the wall once more, and she grimaced as she scrabbled along it and caught the edge of what remained of the floor, dangling through the hole that let in an abrupt updraft as the pressure within the hall matched that which was outside. 

Hauling herself up, the Warrior thought about what made the move familiar before she started to race down the hallway. Elidibus? Possibly. Did that mean Emet-Selch was in danger? A grimace flit across her face as she adjusted her mask and dodged the subsequent patches of pitch on the ground. Again, possibly. One on one he would probably be able to withstand the Emissary, but she hadn't felt anything like what she would have expected from a battle between those two.

Something was wrong. For all that a surprise attack had been levered against her, it felt more like she was being played with than outright targeted. Besides, if it had been the white-robed Ascian, she had a feeling it would have been fangs coming for her, before he simply spat her out somewhere she wouldn't likely be able to escape from. The potentially painful hopscotch ahead of her didn't fit his methods of manipulation or assassination. 

That made her thoughts turn to Nabriales. He was brash enough to do so, but usually the Architect's presence itself kept the Sundered at bay. Besides, she'd never seen him use something like the patches of exploding void. No, that had been... 

"What's your game, Lahabrea?" Vaulting over another puddle wider than she was tall, Priscilla turned a sharp left to take a side corridor and muttered under her breath as the doors further on abruptly closed. Looking back, as she took in the wider hallway she had found herself in. "Hide and seek's a bit hard when you lock me in a closet."

"Every little thing you do, is an annoyance. Long have I thought on the revelation of your power, only to come to the conclusion that such is not as absolute as it may have seemed." A rift opened, and she turned to face it as the Speaker floated out. Touching down, he paced to the side before orienting on her and scowling behind his mask. "And yet, you continue to act as though you follow a pre-ordained script. Choosing when and where certain battles take place, acting to intervene as though you know the story by rote."

"Pretty sure I said it wasn't a hundred percent accurate, and this has made you change your mind? You were pretty helpful, after all, getting me out of the sewers." Eyes narrowing, Priscilla dipped her head and turned slightly as she studied him. Had he decided to attack Emet-Selch? Was that what had happened? "I know you said basically you were going to watch and come to your own conclusion, but you're still tempered. Don't you think you ought to give it more time? You're immortal, after all. All the time in the world."

"Tell me, Warrior of Light. If I fight you here and refuse to flee, will you kill me? Would that follow the pre-ordained path that you see before you, is yours the spear that ends me? Or is it a -lie-." He was floating again, having drifted up and reached out with one hand towards her. 

"I'm not gunna kill you, Speaker. But I'll fight you if I've gotta. What did you do to Emet-Selch?" One blade was drawn, calmly, and she slowly sank into a ready stance as she settled her hand on the hilt of the other. 

"The first strike without warning can be devastating." Lahabrea sneered under his mask, raising both hands as motes of void-tainted aether started to flit between his fingers. The Warrior's eyes narrowed at that, before she bolted across the room towards him. 

A wash of aether abruptly shoved her back, repelling her before he raised one hand and hurled a bolt of the stuff at her. Zigging abruptly to the right, she grunted as it impacted with her anyways, gaining speed and chasing her. Two steps, and she was abruptly cutting back the way she had come as a track of orange streaked the ground and was immediately followed up by a larger, concentrated beam. Patches of pitch black bloomed across the ground before tiny motes of flame touched down within them and lit them, dissuading her from her chosen course of vaulting over them one at a time to get closer. The Speaker threw back his head and laughed, raising one hand only for the sound to abruptly end when a throwing dagger sank into the chest of his robes. 

"What do you think his last thoughts were of, Warrior of Light? You, or my _God?_ "

The sneer slowly faded from his face as he took stock of the seemingly empty room. Both doors were shut, and a quick scan along the ceiling confirmed that she wasn't trying anything _unusual_. A thought occurred to him, and the speaker abruptly spun in place only to realize the area was empty. His elevated hand lowered, cradling the sphere of void and fire aether before he slowly pivoted to make a slow sweep of the room. 

* * *

Hades watched, quietly cursing Lahabrea for running his mouth as he stared at the console. Half of the room was on fire, and the smoke was starting to accumulate along the ceiling. For the Ascian in the room, that wasn't a problem. For Priscilla... 

Well, he would have been surprised if he hadn't witnessed it or already known she could do it. 

She had thrown the dagger and dropped prone behind a patch of burning pitch, and ever so slowly crawled her way along the edge of it, using the fire itself as a visual block. It shouldn't have worked, but not only did her aether appear to almost perfectly match that of her surrounds but physically she seemed to have turned somewhat transparent. Faded, easier to overlook. 

As Lahabrea abruptly spun in place, she pushed herself up and padded along only to drop prone and lay very still as he pivoted in place and swept over her. The Architect could feel the way he was searching with his aether, and held his breath as it washed over the Warrior and _failed_ to find even a shred of her. She remained there, still, until the Speaker was almost fully faced away before her image abruptly snapped back into focus. 

The Paragon she was fighting must have felt something, because he turned abruptly to face her, pulled part of a rift around himself and tried to hastily retreat but she was already too close. The first blade came up to hack through the rift as the other was dropped to free up a hand and haul him out. One blast of void point-blank obscured her briefly before he caught the edge of the sword going up, and then coming -down-. 

Emet-Selch hauled a rift around himself and stepped through, fear beating in his chest like a second heart. 

* * *

That horrible, wicked, curved black blade came up, before coming down. She had a hold on the front of Lahabrea's robes, and the sword came to an abrupt halt against the edge of his neck, raising a fine line of red along it's edge as she gathered her aether. Her focus narrowed to the edge of the blade, before she hauled him further up and crossed the distance to slam him against the wall. 

There. That was the edge of him. _Blue_ surged through her, as she brought every onze of her own aether to bear and pinned him there. Her world dissolved into a black and red inferno as she reached into the heart of him. 

Distantly, she was aware of him physically thrashing against her grip but she ignored it in favour of smothering his aether with her own. It wasn't as _clean_ as Emet-Selch's, but just as expansive and heavy. And afraid, of course, but she ignored that too in favour of pushing further. 

He was the heat of a bonfire, but she was a small sun in her own right. For all that he tried to burn her, she knew she could weather it and reached to thread strands of herself through him, seeking out the darker fires. There, there and there, she could feel them. She could _taste_ them. 

They reminded her of Elidibus, and the familiarity trickled relief through her as she carefully gathered them up. It was like cleaning mud from a particularly large and angry cat, who clawed and hissed and bit every second she was in contact with it, but the fragmented, jagged edges of her were a defense in their own right. 

Like collecting blooms for a bouquet of burning flowers, she carefully gathered the last fragments of the void that stained the Speaker into herself and smothered the lot of them. She knew he could feel it, because of the way he startled and the way all the fight abruptly left him. Gently, she spooled the filaments of herself back and then jolted as a far more familiar aether settled immediately adjacent to the two of them. 

~~_< <Haaahdzz?>>_ ~~

**< <This is -not- a better answer, but I suppose I ought to be thankful you refrained from killing him.>>**

The vibrant colours of aether faded as she slowly shook her head, blinking rapidly as she started paying attention to what her eyes were showing her. A glance around confirmed that both doors were open and that the fires were out, before she glanced down at where Lahabrea had collapsed, panting, against the floor and was leaning against the wall. "He said..."

"He was goading you." The Ascian behind her leaned and wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder as he studied the recovering Speaker. "Deliberately, I might add. Do you realize you essentially just-"

"No, that was surgery." Lahabrea rasped from where he was slowly twisting to put his feet under himself. He staggered on his way back up, one hand bracing against the wall as the other came up to pet at his neck and inspect the shallow cut. "There was nothing joining, affectionate or exploratory of that. I thought you intended to kill me."

"I wanted to." Priscilla grimaced, leaning back against the Architect. "But I promised I was going to save them, and the last time I almost broke that promise I felt like shit for... Well, I mean I -still- feel like shit because of that."

"The mutilation of Elidibus?"

"Yeeeahhh..." A grimace wrinkled her nose before she reached to slide the burned and soot-stained mask off, turning it to inspect the damage and then glance at where the Speaker had hobbled a few fulms away and was still leaning heavily against the wall. "How're you holding up? If I say Zodiark can suck butts, how do you feel about that?"

"Irritated." Silver-gold eyes turned towards her as he slowly slipped his hood back and removed his mask. "When I a a greed to a test of her resolve to refrain from killing us, this was not a result that came to mind."

Emet-Selch smiled thinly, and simply hugged Priscilla tighter.


	36. Chapter 36

It was something of an awkward tea party. First off, there wasn't any tea, just old instant coffee transmuted into relatively fresher instant coffee, and water. Secondly, Emet-Selch had been obligated to go and report Lahabrea's de-tempering at Priscilla's hands, which really just left the two of them in Azys Lla. Thirdly, the Warrior was perched on the skinniest ledge holding her canteen and Lahabrea's coffee as he floated in place and welded a section of pipe together, in the hopes that this was the first and last hole they would have to do so to get water up to what passed for the residential area. 

Priscilla had seem some pretty bright things in her time. Still, with the welders mask that the Speaker had roughly shoved into her grasp pulled down over her face, the same as his, the sparks that trailed from his finger were ridiculous. She half expected it to have been frozen into place, but chalked the fact that he seemed more inclined to use fire to the theory that in this timeline, there were a number of things that were just slightly -off-. 

Which reminded her. She'd have to check in with Vidofnir sooner, rather than later. A grimace wrinkled her nose and pulled her lips into a thin line as the Ascian thumped the pipe with a hand and listened for a moment, as if that would somehow confirm for him that it was airtight. 

"You sure this is gunna work?"

"I am no _Architect_ but I have done my own share of repairs and building." Drifting up to her, Lahabrea reached out to collect his coffee and stared at her through his mask. Even without seeing his expression, the Warrior had a feeling he was scrutinizing her and stuck out her tongue before taking a sip from her canteen. 

"I don't think I've ever seen you actually -fix- anything before, is why I asked. It's not like I'm comparing you to the man who's literal job was city maintenance." Gesturing at him with her free hand, Priscilla shrugged. "Besides, the you I'm familiar with, as Emet-Selch might've mentioned, didn't really use fire. Ice, mostly, and had a bloody big trident-thingy." 

" _Trident-thingy._ " The words dripped with disgruntlement as the Speaker scoffed and then finished his coffee. "What was the purpose of such a thing?"

"Weapon of Office. Like, something that helped focus your magic? I dunno. You usually used it to stab things, from what I saw." Another shrug lifted her shoulders, before she paused and then peered at him. "Is that... Is that still a thing? Weapons of Office?"

"No." She could only presume it was a sad look that Lahabrea aimed into the depths of his empty mug. As he slowly shook his head, she leaned down to see if she could peer somewhat under the mask. "We could manifest such things, Create them if needed but they were a personal choice and not something tied to the seats of the Convocation."

A quiet, amused snort wasn't quite fully stifled as the Warrior clipped the canteen to her waist and started to climb along the side of Azys Lla. She didn't have to see him to feel the suspicious stare he was giving her as he floated along after her. 

"What was -that-."

"It was me tryin' to be polite and not laugh out loud. I mean, imagining anything tied to the -seats- of the Convocation, when your mind goes seat the -chair- to seat the butt of someone's -pants-, certainly makes me wanna laugh. But I thought you might think it was rude, so I was trying to be quiet about it."

"Are you expecting a thank you." His tone was flat with irritation, and the Warrior couldn't help the laugh that emerged as she shook her head. 

"You asked, Breadman. I don't expect anything where you're concerned."

* * *

Meeting with the dragons was both easier and more difficult than expected. On one hand, -she- remembered enough about who to talk to and who to avoid that getting around and earning trust would be easy for her. On the other hand, leaving Kweh with the porter at Tailfeather was borderline -painful-. The people who could and would awaken the ancient instincts that allowed for flight were under strict instruction to turn the bird loose after, because _certainly_ Kweh would be able to find her didn't go down well, and the Warrior spent longer than she liked trying to convince them until she thought to contact Haurchefant. Leverage applied, she had a few words spoken in private with the chocobo about where she was going and then lamented that they couldn't just take the Enterprise. While it had served them well to get them -to- Tailfeather, there were simply too many dragons that were still too hostile. 

Stretching, Priscilla picked her way along the mountain and eventually worked her way through the process of finding Vidofnir and describing in great detail that she did, in fact, have Midgardsormr's blessing. A few things were confirmed, such as the facts that she knew about the truth about the Dragonsong war, that really, she just needed a lift up to talk to either Nidhogg or Hraesvelgr. Preferably the latter, before crossing paths with the former. 

The dragon thought she was crazy. The Warrior privately agreed, but decided against verbalizing that thought and instead found herself, once more, trying to 'prove' herself. Periodically, she felt eyes on her and by and large ignored it for the two weeks she ran around the country side. She was only mildly unhappy that Ravana wasn't summoned during that time, both because it meant she would have been -right there- and able to deal with him quickly, but also because he scratched an itch she hadn't really understood until the sparring sessions with Zenos had become a regular thing.

"Is this what you do, between killing primals?" 

The voice pulled the Warrior out of her thoughts as she stared at the sky, stretched out on her back along a tree branch a hundred or so malms above the ground. Not the voice she wanted, reflexively straining to try and _listen_ as Lahabrea drifted up to sneer at her. "What, nap? Mortals sort've need to every now and then, you know."

"You seemed to be the exception. I could have killed you." There was a smugness to him that evaporated as she rolled to the side, leaning out to practically sing in his masked face. 

" _Butcha DIDN'T~!_ " Letting go of the branch, Priscilla dropped and caught one of the massive roots of the unusual trees in the Chocobo forest, using it to redirect the momentum of her fall and slide along the length of it until she hit the ground in a tumbling roll. Laughing breathlessly, the Warrior got her feet under her and stretched as the Ascian drifted down, scowling. 

"Were you always this deliberately obtuse?"

"I dunno, Emet-Selch seems to find me a-cute." 

"A pun. Wonderful. I should just leave without informing you of what I learned-" Lips shifting up into a smirk as Priscilla turned to properly face him. "Ah, a change in demeanor."

"'Course. I was playing around before, because I'm -bored- with all this stepping and fetching. Much as it needs doing, at this point I'm just better off waiting another few days for Kweh to be finished and just go off the goodwill I've already garnered and hope none've Nidhogg's brood shoot me out've the sky." Brushing herself off, the Warrior ambled closer as the Speaker touched down, tilting her head. "It's business now."

"It is. Because I know you are simply -dying- to learn, I will start by saying that Emet-Selch seemed fine when I saw him. There was naught unusual to his aether, and he was his tired and sarcastic self. I did not get too close, as the Emissary he was embroiled in an argument with would have noticed, but I left word that I had tracked your movements here and that it seemed to strictly be for the training of your chocobo."

"Argument...?" A frown furrowed her brows as Priscilla scratched along the side of her face, just behind the edge of her latest salvaged version of her mask. "Well, I won't say I wasn't worried. Thank's for looking into that. There's more, right? You said you were going to start with that."

"Elidibus knows I lack my Tempering. It seems that such is why he refuses to allow Emet-Selch to continue with his assigned 'task' of shadowing you." Arms folding, Lahabrea rocked on his feet and drifted a few ilms up into the air. "I have also given your words some thought. I do not specialize in Garlemald specifically, but I agree to that portion of your proposal. Provided, of course, you can uphold your end of the bargain." 

"Great! Problem." Lifting her mask so that she could sheepishly smile at the Ascian, the warrior sat down in the grass and then patted the area in front of her. "I dunno how to show you what I've seen. I'd -love- to show you everyone happy and sitting together in a whole world, but..."

"Oh, that particular detail will be less troublesome than you might expect. Consider the method repayment for how you essentially violated me." 

"Violated you? I basically took a feral _cat_ and held it down while I bathed it and picked fleas and ticks out of it's fur." Exasperated, Priscilla wiggled her nose and then watched as the Speaker settled down in front of her, cross-legged. "Eh, I mean I guess I can see how you'd phrase it that way, but you can't say I took away your right to choose when you didn't have that from the start."

"Enough." Settling his hands palm up on his knees, Lahabrea lifted his chin and relaxed his posture. "I am going to enter your mind as I would any I sought to take over, and you are not going to fight me. Doing this, I will see what you have seen, and recall what you have recalled."

The Warrior grinned, before sliding her mask back into place and flopping down comfortably onto her back. Both feet were propped up on the Speaker's lap, crossed at the ankle as she tucked her hands behind her head. 

"Let's get to it then."

* * *

Lahabrea didn't know what he had expected when he closed the eyes of the mortal body he had taken for his own, and opened his other senses to her aether. It was just as fragmented and sharp as before. Just as uninviting to try and suppress. If she fought back the way others tended to, he would certainly find out just -how- sharp. 

Because of this, he was incredibly delicate, cautious and careful. It felt like threading the eye of a needle, as he reached out to try and gingerly feel along the edges of her essence. One wrong move-

Everything shifted. Silver gossamer reached out, and he instinctively recoiled at the memory of how they had sought out his tempering before steeling himself. He brushed against the thread, and marginally relaxed when it did little more than help act as a guide. Mortal eyes opened, and as he partially settled himself in the gaps she had led him to, found himself greeted by the vision of the forest canopy. A glance left and right confirmed it. He was only able to move because it was _allowed_. 

Fine. He could deal with that. He didn't want the body anyway. No, what he was after...

_(Rapidly, images flickered across his consciousness. Many black hoods settled around a table, one white. The smell of pancakes.)_

_(The view from Azys Lla as the landscape heaved and roiled like boiling water in a pot. Catastrophic damage that was contained, shunted and shuffled to try and preserve as much of the flora and fauna as possible. Controlled by the Ascians, as they worked in concert across the Star. A clamor from behind, because the crowd of refugees who would doubtless have to rebuild were suddenly very thankful that they weren't down there.)_

_(A body made of ice, piloted by the tiny dragon within bearing his likeness. A many-flanged trident, as he hashed -something- out with a white-haired hyur. Thancred, her mind helpfully supplied, along with the details. He had done what he always did when infiltrating a location, which was to take over one of the locals and use them as a puppet. There was a sense of old resentment, but also forgiveness attached to the memory.)_

_(There. There was half of what he sought. A battle, between the Warrior of Light and both Igeyorhm and himself. -Losing-, because of the reckless stupidity of someone who would rather jump into a miniaturized black hole than get hit by a combination of fire and ice. The four deaths attached, and the cold, almost unfeeling way the Warrior had numbed herself to her rage. Holding it, hoarding it like a miser to be showered upon those who she believed deserved it.  
_

_He saw himself sucked into the eye, and saw Thordan -freeze-. And then, the eye surfacing along Baelsar's wall. And again, at the Menagerie. He watched from a distance as the dragoon flourished his spear, and destroyed the container.)_

_(But past that, after it all, he saw himself through the eyes of another. He watched himself as he fussed over the remaining Ascians. He saw himself throwing himself into his work, saw the bitter guilt that creased his brow and was clearly visible in every line. How it didn't quite go away as he lounged on a beach, baiting Thancred with lengthy monologues about how refreshing a cold drink was on a hot day under the sun.)_

Lahabrea felt the body sharply take a breath as static raced across the essence he was against, and this time when mortal eyes opened they revealed the light brown boots of the Emissary.


	37. Chapter 37

Priscilla felt the way Lahabrea went utterly _still_ , what had once been the barest flutter of moving heat from a bonfire chilling. She thought the guilt and regret was an interesting mix, but brushed it aside as she pushed herself from prone to seated and stretched idly. Certainty that wasn't her own vibrated through her brain.

** <<He knows. He knows, and has come for me->> **

"Honoured Emissary. Come, sit. Join the party. I'm teaching a lesson."

"I am certain that Emet-Selch would be most interested to learn about what you are doing, Warrior of Light." A polite smile was barely visible under the mask as Elidibus remained floating in place. "Is this how you convinced him to give up our God? Lustful activiti-"

"Woah, hold up. Time out." Lifting both arms, Priscilla made a 'T' in mid air and then tilted her head. "I'm no more fucking Lahabrea than I was fucking the sineateahh... You don't know about that. Whoops. But no, I've _done_ the soul-sex thing, and this isn't it. Trust me, it's -loads- better." 

"Do you think that is how he will see it?" 

"Only one way to find out. But I'm gunna hazard a guess that he's going to be jealous and waspish of the Speaker for a bit one way or another." Hands dropping back to her lap, the Warrior idly pulled up some of the grass to roll and slide between her fingers. "It'll come down to how much he trusts me and what he knows of me and is able to mentally put together. But he's not here, is he. You are. Chasing after Lahabrea to try and return him to the Fold?"

"I could not care if you kill the other Ascians. But to turn them against me, is unacceptable." 

Priscilla hummed thoughtfully as Elidibus continued speaking, turning her attention inwards as she gently nudged the Speaker in askance. Did he trust her? Loosely yes, but also no. Did he trust her with a crazy idea, which led to a moment where he pulled back a bit to privately mull over the prospect. He nudged her back to ask after the _logistics_ of how it would work. 

"... One true purpose, of reuniting the world. Have you not said that too is your goal? What methods then, have you at your disposal that we have not tried over the millennia?" 

"I mean, -not- straight up killing hundreds of thousands of millions of people is a good place to start. Which, I dunno why you were doing anyways considering isn't your current goal to try and cultivate as much life as you can to then feed to Zodiark? 'Course it's going to take a long-ass time the way you're doing it, you've got to wait for everything to repopulate and stabilize again." The Warrior waved a hand idly. "Why are you doing it that way?"

The question made the polite smile vanish. "Because we have no other working alternative, Warrior of Light. We have..."

** <<Fine. I consent.>> **

"-Finally-."

Priscilla had always been fast. She was on her feet and surging forward before Elidibus had gotten farther than the barest beginnings of a rift. By the time it had brushed against his back as he rapidly retreated, she had both hands on the front of his robes in a way that made her think he wasn't wearing a body. It felt the same way wielding straight aether had, where it was less of a physical grasp and more of a method of anchoring herself to him with her own. 

First had come hacking the tempering out of someone. A targeted attack, that shaved the soul of afflicted bits and pulled them away into a container. Dangerous, it held the potential of maiming the individual it was done to. This had been practiced until she could deftly remove tempering from an Ascian gently and swiftly enough that, while it hurt, they were able to remain conscious. 

But that wasn't acceptable or tenable, really. Simple, yes, but ultimately dangerous. With a greater understanding of her own Blessing, coupled with more practice, had led her to a few conclusions and ideas of her own. She could absorb the solidified chunks of crystalized aether left behind by the Primals. She had been able to actively siphon the aether of the Lightwardens, contain it and hold it without being overwhelmed until it had been many times the size of her own soul. 

Second had come with the experiment with Lahabrea, but just as all experimental things she had deemed it a particularly rough process. Two things would help smooth it out, and that was practice and guidance. Her greatest limitation was that she couldn't _see_ , not the way they could, which had led to gathering up all of the tainted aether from the Speaker rather more forcefully than she wanted.

While he lacked the gifted senses of Emet-Selch, he also lacked her limitation and had the strength to lock Elidibus in combat while she worked, which meant she didn't have to _fight_ as she stole through the Emissary's aether like the thief that she was. Like lifting a stain from a carpet, she found every mote of Zodiark within him and swallowed it while leaving the underlying material entirely unharmed. 

By the time the Emissary realized what was happening, they were all the way through the rift and plummeting through to a purple sky dominated by a moon shrouded in void aether.

* * *

Emet-Selch stared blankly up at the ceiling of the Plutonium as Cerberus slumbered underneath him. He was currently nestled in the crook of where the beast's neck split, head pillowed on where the fur came together. Elidibus had left perhaps a bell ago, and he was trying to determine if leaving -now- under the pretense of being worried and going to look for him would trigger his Burden or not. 

A languid stretch pulled his arms up over his head as he yawned, before he crossed his feet at the ankles. Distantly, somewhere far and away, he idly noted both Elidibus and Lahabrea slip through a rift to the Thirteenth and quirked a brow. Both of them were actively -fighting-, and not even with any grace or tact. It was a full on brawl, with both combatants squshed against each other and trying to muscle the other into submission. He paid no mind to the fact that they were rapidly being drawn in by the gravitational core that had been engineered to keep what was left of the star more or less in one place (one of his finer pieces, he had to admit) until something struck him as -off- about Lahabrea's signature. 

There was something awfully _blue_ about the base of those flames. 

But that was impossible, he mused to himself as he slowly sat up with a frown. The Emissary had left to go and collect the Speaker, that was true, which made their return together reasonable. The white robed Ascian had been convinced that keeping a distance from Priscilla was the right choice, which made her fractured, aetheric form's appearance utterly baffling. For Lahabrea's essence to almost fully overshadow that of the Warrior of Light, he would have had to be practically occupying the same space. 

Something twisted in his chest, and the Architect narrowed his eyes as he pulled open a rift of his own and dropped through. 

* * *

She hadn't panicked in a very long time. Normally, freefalling didn't even phase her, but that was because there was something -solid- waiting for her at the end of the drop, and she knew she'd be fine after a few minutes. A mistake had been made, however, in that the Warrior had cracked open an eye to see where they had ended up, and then looked down as everything inside her clenched. 

Nothingness and darkness, with swirls of purple, black and dark blue undulated softly, endlessly onwards. 

It broke her focus enough that the Emissary was able to slam shields up around himself and push her the rest of the way off of him before he tried to halt his own momentum. A swat cut through his spell, and she worked to try and get a grip on him once more while adrenaline surged through her. _Lahabread_ could fly. _Laheebrea_ would be able to keep them from falling eternally. She had most of the tempering out of Elidibus, if she could just try and work her way back through the defenses he had raised, defenses that were rapidly thickening, then _Lahoohaa_ could get them out of this. 

A torso abruptly interposed between her and the nothingness beneath her, shattering her concentration again as she was blinded by the feedback through the Speaker's senses. The impact knocked the wind out of her, and the Emissary took advantage of the situation to get free and retreat through another rift. The Ascian riding shotgun cursed and struggled reflexively to drag her after him before going very still when he accidentally scraped himself across the jagged edges of her aether. The Warrior walled him and his resulting pain off as she had the Lightwarden aether, and blinked rapidly at the fur collar she found herself staring at. 

"Surprise, we brought the party to you." The words were a partial wheeze as she slid her mask up and to the side, smiling sheepishly as she finished catching her breath. The silence that answered her made her blink and study his face, noting the narrowed eyes and furrowed brows. "I can guess what you're thinking, but, uhh... I can absolutely promise you that whatever you're thinking, it's -loads- worse than what it actually is."

"Do tell."

"I let Lahabrea possess me to see my memories of how he died, and give proof of how everything succeeded? And Elidibus showed up at the -worst- moment, so we improvised and I tried to get rid of his tempering, but he went through a rift and we ended up here." A thumb was jerked over her shoulder, as if to indicate the Speaker. "He tried to keep him busy while I worked out a few things. I know, you don't like it when I try and cleave Tempering out of people, but I didn't! I kinda, saturated myself in and then removed myself and the tempering, bit by bit. No scarring, no cutting or hurting." 

Emet-Selch's expression eased just the faintest bit, before looping an arm around her to anchor the Warrior against his chest and starting to drift upwards and off to the side. "Tch, and you did not think to let me know you had managed this breakthrough?"

"You've been gone for two weeks! I've been thinking about it for _ever_ , I just needed a practical way to practice! I was gunna run it past you when you got back, but then the Speaker said that you were arguing with Elidibus and probably couldn't for a while."

"Hmpf. And _why_ is he still possessing you then?" A brow quirked at her, and Priscilla opened her mouth to answer before frowning. After a moment, a snicker and grin pulled the corners of her lips upwards. 

"He sort've stabbed himself on me and hurt himself. I've no way to tell how bad it is, but I think he's mostly trying not to move too much. I sort've helped lead him through the worst as best I could. Say, if I'm just as fragmented as everyone else, why's he have so much trouble with me and not as much trouble with other folks?" Eyes closing, the Warrior turned the bulk of her focus inwards, trying to help funnel Lahabrea around the worst of the jagged parts of her soul. 

"When you break a piece of clay, is it sharp? Or is it soft and malleable. Conversely, break a pane of glass and any unnecessary movements are liable to draw blood." Grimacing, the Architect floated over to the chunk of rock he had located and settled down against it, feet finding purchase before he sat down and settled Priscilla on his lap. "It varies dependent on the nature of that soul."

"Ohh, I get i- Aha! There we go." Eyes blinking open, the Warrior glanced around to take stock of their perch and then tilted her head as a rather harried looking Lahabrea faded into view. "Man, that was -weird-. Letting aether out always is. You alright? Not missing any pieces?"

"More important than that, Elidibus got away. An opportunity like that-"

"Yes, yes, guard up, but I don't think it's that bad really. I kept it separate from you but I got a lot've his tempering. And I remember being told somewhere along the line that you can work a little bit of tempering out of your system on your own." Priscilla smiled slightly behind her mask, hands folding in her lap. "I think he just needs a bit've time now. Just like you. You're probably exhausted and should rest, Speaker. I'm sure if it comes down to it, Emet-Selch can kick me back to the Source if I get -too- on his nerves."


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter brought to you by the art history essay of a friend, who I bullied into doing their homework by saying 'I'll write if you do'

Priscilla twiddled her thumbs as she watched Emet-Selch pace through the open halls and magical pathways ahead of her. Lahabrea had left some time ago, and the Architect had taken the two of them to one of the many floating structures that was little more than a roof supported by columns on a flat courtyard with pieces of glowing purple crystal poking out around the edges. There hadn’t been much -talk-, which meant that he was upset with her. 

Briefly, the Warrior wondered if she had horribly messed things up between them, until the notion was lost to the massive three headed dog that was chewing on a leg bone that she couldn’t have wrapped her arms around. Two heads continued to chew. One lifted up, sniffed the air, and let out a little grown before the enormous tail thumped against the ground. Emet-Selch shimmered, before his form was overtaken by the larger, four-armed version that still seemed to have legs. 

“Tempting. But no, you can’t  _ eat _ this one. Not yet, at least.”

“Is that…? You know, I never did catch his name when he was trying to eat me, after I came here looking for Nero and the clones, trying to close the portal. What’s he called?”

“Cerberus.” Hades reached out to pet through the fur with gold-capped fingers, scritching behind one of the beast’s ears. 

“He was all chained up when I found him. Why’s he not now?”

Four glowing eyes shifted, orienting on her as the Ascian partially turned. “-Please-, he was only chained up likely to anger and aggravate him so that he would attack anything -stupid- enough to traipse through his home.” 

“I’m sensing a theme here. About things being proverbially ‘chained’ and angry about it.” Priscilla poked her fingers together, before clearing her throat. “Look, about Lahabr-”

The other grey-skinned hand came up, stalling her. 

“I don’t want to hear it. Not right now. I’m  _ assuming _ it was according to some whimsy that you are going to masquerade as a plan of some kind. What I want, is for you to understand what you have done. Come here.” 

The Warrior blinked behind her mask, before tipping it up to peer at the Ascian that dwarfed her and the three headed beast beside him. When he reached for her hand, she gave it willingly, drawing a sharp breath as he levered one of the mouths open and tucked her hand between two teeth. His own was settled next to it, pale grey fingers curled around her half-gloved ones. 

“I was dying, in Garlemald. Content to complete my role as Solus zos Galvus, my empire primed and ready to complete the tasks I set for it in my absence. And then you came along, and when you have asked it I have tentatively eased my hand into the proverbial mouth of my  _ God _ . I trusted, that you would not slam the jaw shut on my hand.” The Ascian continued to scritch around the base of the ears of the beast, drawing a rumble from two throats as the third reflexively dry- swallowed and drooled around the wrists in his mouth. 

“Then, I turn to tend to something  _ you _ designed, -trusting- that you would at least continue to play the part of my loyal, loving wife only to return to you fraternizing not only with the enemy, but with the singular individual that you have time and time again professed to be -disgusted- with. This, in and of itself, is excusable. He is an able pawn, if managed correctly. You, however, took it one step  _ further _ .” 

Emet-Selch leaned pulling her arm further into the maw, staring at her. “You let him possess you, so that he could rifle through your memories. You gave up the single advantage you had over the Ascians, and the single defense that I could utilize. That being the fact that it was impossible to determine what you, in fact, did or didn’t -know-. On a professional level, do you understand how this looks? There is now someone afield who can confirm the extent of your knowledge and abilities.” 

“I-”

“Ah ah ah,” One of the large clawed fingers dipped down to press against her lips, effectively shushing her. “I overlooked your -ravaging- of the essence of the Speaker, and hoped it wouldn’t be something you would repeat the performance of. After all, it was effective regarding the removal of his Tempering, but it is an  _ unclean _ method. And yet, here we are, where I have once more stuck my hand in the mouth of the beast called -trust- only for you to slam the jaws shut. I didn’t think I would have to repeat myself when I implied what, exactly, you were doing -looked- like.”

“So it’s okay for all of the Ascians to ravage the essences and minds and bodies of countless generations of people, but when I do it to fix things, you throw your hands in the air and suddenly it’s immoral. Interesting card to play for someone who was inside my -bird-.” The Warrior’s eyebrows shifted upwards as they tilted their head, free hand pushing his finger away. “Look, you wanted an alternative to hacking it out of people with a knife. I was going to apologise, but then I thought about it. -Really- thought about it, Emet-Selch. You bring up some good points? But that one’s -shit-. It’s a hypocritical double standard. You keep using Cerberus’ jaws as a metaphor? Here. Translate this one.”

He stared down at her, before startling as she reached up and snapped the beast’s jaw shut.

* * *

“How did it go.” 

The Warrior glanced over towards Lahabrea as he drifted closer to where she was perched on a roof, before sighing. 

“Oh, you know. It went. I’m pretty sure I made things worse, but I’m getting tired of walking on eggshells all the time. Any luck finding where Elidibus went?”

“Finding people is not my field of expertise.” The Speaker sounded sour under his mask, and she chuckled slightly. “What.”

“You always seemed to be able to find me, so I find that kind of funny, is all. You even found me the one time Emet-Selch couldn’t get to me in the Lifestream first.” Priscilla leaned back, staring upwards at the drifting swirls in the sky.

“You would have been a valuable asset.” 

“Maybe. All that proves is that even if I wasn’t called ‘Eschaton’, I was someone to you all. Still a member of the Convocation, if I understand it all right.” The Warrior swung her feet over the edge idly, before flopping backwards. “... Did I hate you? In the past?” 

“If I say yes, what will you do?” The black robed Ascian touched down on the roof a few feet away, hooded head tilting to look down at her. 

“Wonder why, really. I dunno. The past is important but people need to keep looking forward. I feel like that’s something you understand, or understood, or… Something. The Architect keeps looking back, and I don’t even know where Elidibus’ head is at. Lemme tell you, I have some -strange- memories about him. Is he really one of the older ones of the group?”

“Youngest, actually.” Lahabrea turned and sat down, glancing around. “I saw... Some of those. Naught more than snippets, fragments of images as you funneled my focus to the more relevant experiences.”

“Bad, those aren't for you to see.” Sticking her tongue out in the Speaker’s general direction, the midlander tucked her hands behind her head and sighed. “... How long before you recover?”

“Planning another attack, are we?” Disgruntlement coloured the Ascian’s tone as he shook his head and looked out towards the drifting fog. “Too long for whatever you might plan. Elidibus was the stronger of the two of us.” 

“Alright. We’ll shelf that idea for now. Oh! Hey, there’s something you can help me with. So I know time’s all wonky between the different shards, right? But in the next, uhh, less than a year? Maybe a year? There supposed to align or something? Or… I dunno. But I need to get to the First and take care of the sin eaters and light wardens before everything there goes to shit.” 

“Warrior, understand when I say that I did not expect to be able to see you here in the flesh that it is because even we cannot bring physical bodies through the void between the Shards. It was expected that when Elidibus traversed his rift, you would be left behind. I know not how you managed to arrive here, because it was not the type of portal meant to allow for such.” The Ascian reached out to try and flick her, letting out a thoughtful hum as his incorporeal finger simply passed through her. “See? I am a spirit, an insubstantial body of aether lacking in substance while you are flesh and blood.” 

“I noticed that, yeah. How come Emet-Selch could? He’s got a body here. I’d know, I hauled his hand out of a mouth before closing it to make a point that I’d save him.” 

“Is that why he is nettled.” The Speaker shook his head. “You would have to confirm with him in that regard. Of the three of us, he seemed to hold onto himself the best.”

“Probably the memory thing.” Sighing, Priscilla propped herself up on her elbows and peered over at the Ascian. “Alright. So that means you probably don’t know how to get me back to the Source then either. Alright. There’s only one place that I know of that had a portal to this Shard. If I tell you about it, do you think you could open it?”

“Given sufficient time and a detailed enough explanation, such is possible.” 

“Alright then. Here’s what you need to know.”

* * *

_ He drifted, recovering. Exhaustion radiated through him, a sort of bone-deep ache of weariness that left him puzzled considering he was a mass of aether and thought. He was… He was -needed-. He knew that much. But the cause he had been fighting for, it didn’t seem quite as important as it had before.  _

_ Conflicting thoughts bounced back and forth through his mind. He had to help his brethren. He didn’t care if they were killed. He had to ensure the resurrection of Zodiark. Zodiark was going to devour everything. The Warrior of Light needed to be killed. He was the Warrior of Light.  _

_ It didn’t make sense.  _

_ He was just… Tired. That was all.  _

_ He would just take a bit of a rest, and think it over once his proverbial head stopped hurting.  _

_ Just a short one. A little nap. A ten minute power nap, if anything.  _

_ Just a few moments of peace…  _


	39. Chapter 39

When Priscilla came through the portal and touched down at the top of the tower, she could tell right away that she wasn't what Xande had expected. She didn't give him much time to think about it though, hacking into a tendon to drop him enough that she could sweep upwards with one of her blades and cut his throat. The portal had already begun to close by the time she had finished, and when Lahabrea manifested nearby the Warrior gave him a nod. 

"Thank's. You found him alright?" 

"I did, though it took longer than expected to convince him. Without your advice, it might have proven more difficult however." The Ascian folded his arms, lips pulling into a frown. "Igeyorhm has tailed me, and I lack the strength to keep her at bay."

"Iggy? That's actually not half-bad, considering the timing. I hope she doesn't hold Thordan against me, I know he was her pawn and all." Priscilla rolled her shoulders, before ambling closer. "You mind setting up a meeting between us? I'd do it myself but I dunno how to contact her, and I'm pretty sure attempts to talk through aether like you guys do is as painful to listen to as it is to do." 

The Speaker eyed her for a moment, before sighing. "It cannot be helped. She is likely to respond favourably to a request, as opposed to bait."

"As soon as we can get it done then. Okay, so that leaves..." The Warrior looked down at the floor, before starting to scrape one of her blades across it. "Dragonsong war, check. Garlemald I'll have to check on. Azys Lla, check. That leaves... I suppose I should hit Dun Scaith sometime soon before Diablos... Diabolos? Demon guy actually frees the queen... There's Rabanastre, too. And Alexander. I should probably do that one first and try and find this guy with a book, see if he's in the area. Between him and demon guy, it's a toss up for who's more dangerous..."

"Warrior of Light." 

"Eh?" She glanced up, blinking through her mask as Lahabrea rubbed his temples. 

"You have forgotten that the only context I have for many of these names is historical only. What happens? When? What is the catalyst? You claim my aid is essential, however you neglect to inform me as to why these places are a relevant topic for the near future."

Priscilla winced behind the mask. "... It took me days to go over everything with the Architect. Give me a few minutes and I'll try and think of a summary for each one that'll be helpful."

* * *

Now that they were on the Source, it was (relatively) easy for the Speaker to drop her off on a roof before departing to try and hit as many key points as he could. The first location was the Dravanian Hinterlands, and when the enormous time-locked primal wasn't anywhere to be found he turned right around and went instead to the Sea of Clouds. The pirate outpost he had been informed of was exactly where the Warrior had said it would be, and he settled in to watch it for a bell and mull things over. It was unlikely that she would deliberately attempt to cut him off from information, he reluctantly realized. She simply seemed incredibly disorganized and certainly working on too many projects at a time to be able to properly focus. 

He could understand why she was attempting to counter as many plots as she could remember. It seemed the most promising course of action, if the Ascians had -as a group- consistently failed to overcome her by throwing idea after plan after attempt at her. Still, it was frustrating. She was running around putting out fires that weren't even lit yet on the deck of a burning ship while the ammunition inside smoldered. Still, when she had gone over the bare bones of the idea that was brewing in her mind - Not even a plan! Not even _half_ of a plan! - he had to reluctantly agree that it had merit. He, with his expanded network and ability to quickly get from one place to another, would be one of the key players. 

She was right. Nothing would be left if they rejoined the shards at the accelerated pace that the Ascians as a whole had set. She held the ability they needed, it was just a matter of empowering her, which was dangerous in and of itself. But to do so, would necessitate the summoning of primals which would only make the entire situation degenerate further or risk dragging one of the primed shards into the Source. There had already been a calamity in waking memory, but it had lacked the proper effect. Countless had died, but already the aether was beginning to churn in disturbingly familiar ways that even he, in his exhausted and threadbare state could discern. 

Zodiark was still an option. But for that possible lead to pan out, either an immense amount of power would need to be routed through the eldest of primals or the Source and the Shards would need to be reunited, and that was barring the instability He had proven to possess. He was tainted, plagued by multiple flaws that were compounded by the number of people who had sacrificed themselves for His birth. 

Lahabrea sighed, before turning and pulling a rift open. His bell of time was up. There were other locations he needed to check on.

* * *

Fray (the fake one) smoothed a cloth along the massive blade across his lap. He watched Fray (the real one) hashing out details with Ysayle and the-dragon-with-the-hard-to-say-name. Vidofnir was settled nearby, listening as Myste (arguably, the more charismatic of the two free-floating pieces of the Warrior of Light) clarified some of the finer details of what was possibly going to come to pass. Beside them stood two unusual figures, elezen both, though one was arguably more feral in demeanor than the other. His sort of person, Fray admitted, grinning beneath his helm. Nidhogg wasn't going to be an easy opponent, but between the lot of them they were going to just have to manage. 

One flight fighting the other was out of the question. Death tolls would be unacceptable, which meant they had to cut the head from the snake and hope the body died. It seemed to have more or less worked out the last time, though of course that had been after Priscilla had carved a swath of death and destruction through the dragons forces. Mulling the odds over, he glanced up as Myste let out a startled sound and hurried over to his side. 

"That mask..."

"Mask-?" Craning his head around, Priscilla's Fray startled and hauled the sword up as he staggered to his feet, one hand protectively thrown to the side to give the blue haired fragment some cover as the black robed Ascian that floated nearby slowly lifted his hands. "Lahabrea...!"

"I bear a message from your Source. Bait the dragon to Sea of Clouds. There is a Mhachi ship, known commonly as the ghost ship. You know where it is. Use the beast to destroy it, set one evil against another. From there, move to the Dravanian Hinterlands and watch for Alexander-"

"What in the seven hells are they doing." Fray (the real one) eyed the two fragments and then the seemingly empty air that they were both staring down, and then glanced over towards Ysayle to take in the way she was defensively glaring. "A visitor then. Bloody useless if I can't see him."

"-What message would you have me bear back to her." 

"Yeah, ask her what the -fuck- anal choker guy's name was and get back to me for proof. I still don't trust you." The fragment Fray turned his sword slightly as Lahabrea's lip curled before he vanished in a swirl of darkness. "Watch, he's not going to come ba-"

"Thancred." The Speaker's voice emerged from a rift a short distance away from where he vanished as he floated back through. "Is that proof enough."

Both fragments stared at him before sharing a glance. The blue-haired Myste smiled faintly, before reaching to press down on the other shards forearms and guide the claymore down to the ground. "We believe you. Please, tell her we will do what we can. Are you... an ally?"

"That remains to be seen. So far your Warrior of Light seems to believe she holds the capability of saving us all from the growing imbalance. I will pass your message along." Lahabrea stiffly lowered his hands, before turning and starting to pull a rift around himself as Myste stepped forward and cleared his throat. 

"Thank you. I mean it. She... cannot be everywhere, and something is wrong. Many of the markers of the situations we are looking for are missing."

The Speaker paused, glanced back, and then nodded as he drifted forward into darkness. 

* * *

One sword came around and caught another, flat blocking curved, and the Garlean prince felt his face split into a grin as he stared down at the masked figure that looked back up at him. 

"Hey kid. You look bored. Want to play hooky and spar for a bit?"

His answer was a step forward, pushing back against the Warrior's blade. 


	40. Chapter 40

"Did you get my message about Doma?"

The question was neatly bisected as it floated between the two combatants, the Garlean Prince pushing in to use his height and mass to his advantage with an overhead chop. The straight sword was slid deftly aside as Priscilla used the curved outer edge of her swords to her advantage, stepping to put her back against the wall only to drop under the back handed swing across aimed for her stomach. 

"Doma _bores_ me."

"Lots of things bore you." The Warrior dove into a roll, pulling herself up and tucking around a pillar as Zenos pursued her. He cleaved through the pillar with a grin, and followed her out into the courtyard as she skittered away. "They bore me too, but I've got an idea about that. You see, I've got some things I need to kill, but I thought to myself 'You know what this needs? -Competition-.' 'Cause it's boring otherwise."

The blond swordsman slowed his pace, eyes narrowing thoughtfully before he stepped aside to avoid a piece of roof debris that slid down and landed nearby from a section of previously collapsed building. "You are challenging me to a game of sport?"

"I am. Nidhogg's brood's a problem, and I've arranged for him to be out of the way for a little bit. Just think, what do you suppose he'll do when he gets back and finds out we've decimated his entire flight?"

"Wrath." Blue eyes widened slightly as the Garlean Prince grinned. "A cattle prod to the backside of the beast."

"Then, the race is on to see who kills him first." The Warrior settled defensively, flourishing one blade habitually as they watched Zenos. "If you're interested, there's a condition that makes it harder. Hraesvelgr's brood needs to remain untouched. I want them in my pocket." 

"Pfa, what need have you of such a thing?" He took a running jump towards her, his downward chop redirecting to chase her as she rolled left and lifted both blades to block. Both disengaged before the Warrior spun back in to rattle off a series of strikes against the blond swordsman's longer sword, testing his defenses and eventually slipping one in to dip through his armor and into his side with the sound of an unwilling can being opened. A heavy kick warded her away before she could press the wound deeper. 

"Nothing quite intimidates the little folk like an army of dragons. 'Sides, dragons can be useful, and if they don't do what I tell them to then they can always be reminded about what happened to Nidhogg's flight. But before any of that happens, you need to go to Doma." The hilt of one of her swords was rubbed against her stomach as she pushed aside the pain of his boot before she danced back in. A one-two combo had his blade lifting higher before she dropped her shoulder, kept his blade pushed out, and shouldered him in the stomach with a quick burst of speed and strength that sent him skidding backwards. The quick diagonal swipe he retaliated with scored through the Warrior's mask, though she jerked back quick enough to prevent it from dipping any further. "Oof, that could've been my nose."

"And fix the Brutus 'problem'. They will wonder why I am withdrawing my Legion, and move another in place." 

"You don't need to withdraw completely, just leave folks alone and let Hien manage his own people." Priscilla circled to the left, side-stepping carefully around bits of broken earth. 

"And deliver Asahi to you. What _is_ your interest in the boy. Jealous of his devotion?" Zenos feinted a lunge, watching as she slid to the right like a fish avoiding a shark. 

"There's only a few people that've ever made me want to wish I could kill them slowly, Zenos. There's no version of any of this that he survives. His voice, his face, everything about him makes me want to wring his little neck between my bare hands until his face purples and his tongue lolls out as he goes blessedly still and silent."

* * *

Lahabrea rubbed his temples as he drifted out of the rift and into the ruined courtyard. Both combatants were tending to their wounds, and he noted with some disgruntlement that it looked as though the Warrior had neatly and effectively borderline eviscerated an ecstatic Zenos. At his arrival, Priscilla's head came up and she slapped the blond swordsman on the gut with a snicker, drawing a pained wheeze and reflexive curl from the much taller man. 

"Alright, heal up. I'll find you in a week for a rematch, so you'd best have that looked after. Don't forget. _Doma_."

"Very well. Do not think me so easy to defeat next time." 

"I'm counting on it." The Warrior pushed herself to her feet and ambled over to the Ascian, nodding as he pulled another rift open for the two of them to step through together. 

"You nearly killed him. Is that not detrimental to your attempts to use him?"

"Zenos doesn't quite work like that, Speaker. He's cracked when it comes to fighting, and the happiest he ever was before was after I'd beat the shit out've him while he was a giant dragon primal. He killed himself because he wanted to feel like that forever, but it didn't stick because he'd done the Resonant thing by then and then went and got his body back. After Elidibus wore it. Say, is there some sort've anti-decay thing you guys do to corpses when you wear them?" She made her way over to where Kweh was stabled, dumping the damaged mask into a bin and collecting a fresh one from one of his saddle bags. He warked and chirped until she broke down and reached to haul over one of the nearby greens, stuffing the cabbage-like food into the chocobo's face. 

"Our aether is typically robust enough to stymie such physical degradation. I have passed on your messages, and all seem to be in accord. This leaves the Ascians, although many are still tending to their careful work on the other Shards. Nabriales and Igeyorhm are still monitoring the Source. Elidibus has yet to resurface, and all reports indicate that Emet-Selch has retreated to his private sanctuary." 

"And the Scions. Thank's for convincing Minfilia to keep Kweh here, by the way. Did G'raha get in touch with Tataru?" Priscilla reached to scritch along the chocobo's cheekfloof as he contently chowed down on the greens. 

"Yes, and they keep watch for Amon at your request. Though he escaped, I do not believe he will remain in hiding much longer. They set appropriate bait, and continue to work towards an alliance between the city-states and the beastmen tribes." The Ascian dropped his hands to his sides, before shaking his head. "Without a widespread cure for Tempering however, it is unlikely to gain much traction. Would that I understood more of your method."

"Well, I mean... I just reach in and take all the wrong aether out. Usually given some time to think they sort themselves out not long after. When I was hacking it out of Ascians I was trying to, I dunno, keep them shaped the way I thought they were supposed to be, without too much damage? Everyone ended up sort've scarred by the end of it. I always worry that maybe I took a bit've who they were supposed to be out too, but it's hard." Priscilla waved a hand idly. "Elidibus had the urge to drink wine for weeks after Emet-Selch and I put him back together. I don't rightly remember if he ever shook that." 

Lahabrea's brows furrowed under his mask, before he slowly shook his head. "I see. Regardless, what in your opinion is the next step to take."

"Well, once we get confirmation that Nidhogg's in the Sea of Clouds, mowing down on a demon, then we can get Zenos and head to his home and ransack the place while he's out. But until then, maybe try and get Igeyorhm to stop tailing you at a distance and get that over with?" 

"Very well, but I must inquire. What is your current plan for the Doom." The Ascian folded his arms, watching as the Warrior paused. 

"I dunno if you'll like it. You sure you wanna know?" She leaned back against the half-door of Kweh's pen, elbows settled on the ledge it provided. 

"I do not subscribe to blind hope, Warrior."

"Alright. Once I'm done running around like a dodo with my head cut off, I'll have some breathing room. From there, I'll have a clearer view of what might need to be tweaked where. Then, I need to find some way to breath in an airless atmosphere, and get myself brought to the moon." Fingers flicking, Priscilla pointed her fingers upwards. "This is, of course, on the condition that I'm at -least- one quarter of the aetheric strength of the Big Crystal Man in there. To which, I need someone who can sense aether as easy as breathing, which of course means..."

"The Architect and his eyes. You are certain he will aid you in this? I gathered that the two of you parted on less than exceptional terms, and somewhat undiplomatically." The Speaker's lips tugged downwards at the corners, before he shook his head once more. "Even if he were, you would have to enter his Vault. I know naught of the location, but even I am aware of how impregnable it must be."

"You've never really understood his motives, have you." The Warrior sounded amused as she adjusted her mask. "I know where his vault is, more or less. All I need is you to get me to the door and go." 

"You intend to breach his Vault?"

"Nah. I intend to knock." 


	41. Chapter 41

Lahabrea was a deceptively cunning individual. Driven to the point of self-destructive, granted, but all too aware of the fragility of the house of cards he was watching rise around them. That the Warrior wished to meet with Zodiark in person meant only one thing, considering her history as an eikon slayer, but the distinction of minimum one fourth the strength of the eldest of primals was a smidge baffling. Was she measuring the ratio between herself and the primals she had fought heretofore? Was she just _that_ arrogant, to think that at one quarter the strength of half of His true potential, she could overpower Him? 

Did she have another plan, and just neglected to mention it? 

She was, perhaps, more dangerously unhinged than Fandaniel either way. With Emet-Selch in his vault and Elidibus only Zodiark knew where, that left Lahabrea as the last of the Unsundered to corral and reign in the more... _enthusiastic_ or unsound Sundered. To which, he really should do the rounds soon. Left without a guiding hand they were wont to scatter and work on personal projects as opposed to the goals of the group. 

But that, in turn, left him wondering what those very goals might translate as. They were Tempered, and without his full strength he could feasibly be overpowered if he attempted to guide them away from the plots devised and set in motion. He could always rest, give himself time to recover, but he knew he wouldn't. He never did. 

Or did he. Had he, once? The more he turned over his experiences with the method of de-Tempering that the Warrior used, the more he questioned whether or not he was... _different_. Had she inadvertently, unconsciously rebuilt him into some mental image she had held of him during what she claimed was an attempt to 'stabilize' him as he was freed?

_("Elidibus had the urge to drink wine for weeks after Emet-Selch and I put him back together. I don't rightly remember if he ever shook that." )_

The barest thought produced a handful of fire to chase away the darkness, and he wondered if it could have just as easily been ice should anyone have neglected to mention to her that he was a pyromancer.

* * *

Stepping through the rift, Priscilla stared blankly at the cave that was lit only by the red of the Speaker's mask and then a flicker of fire. The blank, partially curved wall was ahead, which boded well. Glancing back at the motionless Lahabrea, the Warrior waved a hand idly to get his attention. 

"Hey, I've got this from here. Go on, I'll catch up with you later, yeah?"

The Ascian looked at her, silent for a moment before turning and drifting back through the rift. As darkness descended, the Warrior turned back to where they remembered what passed for an 'entrance' lingered, and sat down. A few seconds later and she had tucked her hands behind her head and stretched out, legs crossed at the ankles to listen to the faint, distant drip of water that echoed through the tunnel. 

What was she going to say, she wondered. Was trying to think about it manipulative? Pushing the thought aside, she closed her eyes and shrugged. Best to say what was true, and what was in her heart as it came up. Sure, it might have gotten her into trouble but at least she could say she had been as honest as possible. 

The hair on the back of her neck stood on end as the feeling of being watched settled into her bones. How like was it, she wondered, that there was something -else- in the area that wasn't Emet-Selch? It was at least a possibility, considering a lot of the underground caves weren't explored any more. The ones that were often had a variety of things in them as well. But no, as a feeling of _listening_ filled the area around her she could all but see the shape of him as he floated near his Vault. 

Well, at least he hadn't let her just sit out there for an eternity. Priscilla smiled behind the mask and idly tapped her foot to a nameless tune.

"Hey."

Red light flared through the tunnel as Emet-Selch's mask lit up the darkness. He folded his arms, staring at her silently as he floated. When she tipped her head up to glance at him, she noted the marked lack of expression visible on the lower half of his face and internally winced. Well, even if he was wearing his mask, at least he was _there_. 

"So, uhh..."

"Why are you _here_." His voice cut her off, flat and tired, drawing a second wince from her. 

"Because I could've phrased what I said last time better, and didn't have to take it that far." Priscilla sat up, hands settling flat against the stone to brace her as she tilted her head. "I'm sorry for how I said it."

"But not sorry for _what_ you said." The Ascian's tone was less flat, and more tired, and he straightened slightly as she reached up to remove her mask and set it on her lap. 

"I'm not. It's a double standard, but I thought about it and I think I understand a bit about where you're coming from. It's not supposed to be 'okay' for me because I'm 'the good guy', or because maybe you want me to be strong enough to not have to stoop to that sort've thing. I tried to think about what you might be trying to, but unable to say."

"Presumptuous little thing." He huffed, before turning towards the Vault and unfolding his arms. A snap of his fingers had a section of wall disappearing as he started to float forward. "You might as well come in. 'Tis not as though you have any way to leave on your own." 

The Warrior perked up before scrambling to her feet and hustling through the gap before he changed his mind. As the Architect silently drifted through the halls, she padded along and marveled at the way the plush carpet swallowed the sound of her footsteps. When he turned into a room and vanished, she followed through the doorway and blinked at the sight of him in casual wear slowly lifting his head from the large, angled desk he sat at. Rulers, pencils and large sheaf's of paper were scattered about, and she peered curiously at the current project as Emet-Selch tiredly propped his chin up on one hand.

"What's this?"

"One of numerous attempts at an impossible task. Something to use the Heart of Sabik in a manner similar to that of a magnet and remove specifically Zodiark's Tempering. 'Tis proving rather difficult." A sigh escaped him as he watched her peer at the blueprints, eyes tracking lines and barely glancing at his shorthand notes. When he made no move to stop her, Priscilla set her mask against the bottom ledge and then reached out to trace her fingers across the thick paper. 

"You're really still trying, aren't you."

"It is becoming _increasingly_ clear that to have a proper conversation with you, it is a necessity. You trust _Lahabrea_ more than myself at the moment, which is incredibly telling of where things stand." Hades reached up, sullenly rubbing his temples. "I half wonder why, exactly, you have yet to ambush me the way you did the Speaker."

" _Would_ you have been able to fight Elidibus? Keep him still long enough for me to do what I've gotta?" Turning, Priscilla reached up to move his hands away and start running her fingers along his scalp, smiling slightly at the way his expression went irritated first, and disgruntled-if-relaxed second. "I haven't put you through that yet because I don't want to hurt you, if I can avoid it. Lahabrea was to see if it was possible, and Elidibus was practice. I don't... I don't wanna attack you, because it feels wrong. And maybe you'll have a breakthrough and find a better way to do it, y'know?"

"One on one? Perhaps. I did swear not to come to your aid, however." His nose crinkled as she chuckled. "The only way to alter that arrangement is to circumnavigate the Tempering that aligns me with His will."

"Would you hate me, if I jumped you? Would you fight back?"

"Your instincts serve you well, in that it would be perceived as a betrayal. Fighting back..." Pale gold eyes cracked open as he mulled it over. His gaze sought hers before narrowing "Once I realized what you were doing, likely. I know that look. Preemptive guilt, amusement and an utter lack of remorse."

"Just thinking that you look _really_ tired, and I know you've got an incredibly huge bed around here somewhere."

"-Please-, you desperately need to work on your 'innocent' look." Still, Emet-Selch pushed himself to his feet and headed for one of the walls. It vanished, and Priscilla hustled to keep up with his longer strides through the halls and walls before he drifted up and flopped face-first into the bed fit for his larger forms. It took a moment for the Warrior to scramble up the side and wade over to him, but when she did he rolled onto his back and eyed her contemplatively. "Intending to take advantage of an unconscious state?" 

"Nah. You really -do- look tired, I wasn't lying about that. You always just function a bit better after a nap, is all."

"I find you difficult to trust right now." 

Priscilla grinned cheekily before stretching out nearby.

* * *

When the Architect woke up, not only naturally from his nap but also Tempering intact, he felt a little vindicated in his choice to trust her. Ever so slightly frustrated, but that was largely blunted due to how she had dozed off next to him and curled against his side. A sigh escaped him as he scrubbed his face with one hand, the other trapped under her side. 

She was warm against his side, and to his senses even her shattered presence was enough to make him want to simply curl around her and doze back off. Still, something nagged at him. Her expression had been borderline impish before, yet here she was unconscious and defenseless as if nothing had changed. Maybe she had already done something. Perhaps-

But no, he was conscious of himself and the state of his aether. Nothing could enter his Vault uninvited without setting off any number of alarms or countermeasures. The Warrior had planned something, and knew about his ability to perceive aether and likely had some idea of his defenses. 

What then, what was her game? What path was she choosing to take? Thinking about it made his head hurt, so he went with the simple and easy answer to her apparent machinations.

She had curled up against him in either a conscious or unconscious attempt to cuddle. 

Hades rolled onto his side and curled around her, before closing his eyes and letting go of the world for a little bit longer. 


	42. Chapter 42

"You been to the moon recently?" 

Emet-Selch spat out his coffee before leaning over the table, coughing and trying hard not to let his current vessel die by choking on the almost burning liquid he had inadvertently both inhaled and exhaled. Priscilla leaned over and thumped him on the back a few times as he recovered, before returning to her cereal. 

"... The last time I returned there was to argue with Elidibus." Producing a cloth, the Ascian moped the table with an irritable grimace before scooting it off to the side with a quiet sound of disdain. "Why?"

"I need to know where I stand in relation to the half of Zodiark that's up there. Crazy idea, I use words and convince Him to de-Temper the Ascians."

"Much as I might wish that would actually _work_ , you're right. 'Tis a crazy idea." Eyeing the remains of his coffee, Emet-Selch sighed and started to get up to get a refill before the Warrior patted his shoulder to bid him to remain and went to get it for him. 

"I mean, that's what I thought you'd say? But lemme walk you through my math." 

"As I recall you whole-heartedly admit that you yourself rather lack math-based skills. Thank you." Accepting the new mug, Hades leaned back in his chair and watched as she settled back down next to him. 

"I do. But these're big, vague numbers, and that works for me. So, Zodiark is made of half've the remaining population of the Amaurotine people, right? I've seen Amaurot. I know that 'half of the remaining' is different than 'half of the population'. A whole whack died to the Doom and the monsters it spawned, and it was that panic and loss that drove the people who sacrificed themselves to do so. Let's say there were three million to start with. Going by the rampant destruction and corpses I saw when you showed me the Final Days - and I trust your memory when it comes to a realistic recreation - that means probably a full million or so died before Zodiark showed up, right?" 

"I see what you mean by 'big, vague numbers'." Emet-Selch muttered the words into his drink as he took a sip, eyes settling on the Warrior as she leaned her elbows on the table. 

"Three million's a big guessed number, since I don't actually know how many people lived in Amaurot. The buildings were -really- tall and there were lots of them though, so... Anyway, let's say that leaves two million. And just about of that gave up their lives to make Zodiark, which leaves about one million. Half that, for the people who gave up their lives to bring life back to the star, right? For half a million left."

"I have yet to see where this is going." The Ascian set down his mug and watched her through narrowed eyes. 

"I'm getting there. Of that amount, a bunch decided too much had been given already, right? -They- sacrificed themselves to make Hydaelyn, who they were somehow able to make more than a match, when numerically speaking that should've been impossible, right? Enough people to have a whole faction, and some left over if the cave mural on the First was anything to go by. Now, 'course, Zodiark was exhausted twice-over because He'd stopped the Doom and restored life to the Star. Follow so far?" 

He rolled his eyes, but nodded as Priscilla slipped from her chair and started to pace through the dining room. 

"So let's say that it was an even split, half to half, dissidents to Faithful, and then half of the unhappiest put themselves together to be Hydaelyn. That means that Zodiark would've had, to put up a fight, the strength of two hundred thousand Amaurotine citizens, at most, when He was sundered. Half that, because He's only half put together, is a hundred thousand. But that math doesn't _feel_ right, y'know? I remember fighting Him. I remember that He got stuffed into a vessel too small, something that would hinder Him. I remember that I hit Him and cracked Him a little, before you widened that crack and then I hit Him with everything I had. And, sure, I'm not _quite_ as strong as I was then in the same way, but I know things now that I didn't then." 

"-Please- tell me you draw closer to the point." 

"If you derail my train of thought I'll just have to start over again." The Warrior grinned cheekily at him, before moving to put her hands on the chair. "I remember what it felt like, hitting that aether. I know we theorized that each shard of Him was probably about ten to twenty thousand Amaurotine people, and I know I didn't want to hit Him and -cleave- because I didn't want to damage the souls in Him. So say He's got the aetheric mass of a hundred thousand people, right? In one existence, I split myself into three, gave each piece an aetheric accelerator, and then those three pieces used that moment of combustion to make Hydaelyn. So that means when I was an Amaurotine citizen, I just needed to increase my output by thirty to match Zodiark. So me before absorbing the crystals and the Blessing and all that, I'd've been one thirtieth the strength of Zodiark. What I want to know, is where do I measure up now, if you do all the ratio-ing, compared to half of my strength before?" 

"I rather think you decided to overcomplicate this entire thing." Emet-Selch set his coffee down so that he could rub his temples. "While your theory is -albeit convoluted and mathematically unsound - at it's bones _plausible_ , you seem to be under the impression that you might be able to take on a fragment of Zodiark by yourself. The difference between the two of you is..." He made the mistake of looking at her, of looking at those wide eyes as she stuck out her lower lip. Scoffing, the Ascian looked away. "Stop that. It does you no good." 

"C'mooon, how much power do I have compared to the half the Big Man in the Moon?" 

"Not -nearly- enough to survive six seconds against Him. You cannot even hope to defeat _me_ , what makes you think the gap between my God and I is any smaller?"

"Hey, not everyone that gave their aether to him had to be as strong as a member've the Convocation. 'Sides, I could -totally- take you." Priscilla circled the table and nudged him in the shoulder with his arm. At the glower he aimed at her, she grinned. "Want proof? You've got a testing floor around here somewhere. Go a round with me, hold nothing back. If I beat you, then you've gotta answer my question. If you beat me, I'll, I dunno. Slap Lahabrea or something. I don't wanna -beat- Zodiark, just be strong enough to make Him listen to me without ignoring me like a fly on a wall."

"Absolutely _not_. His awakening would destroy everything you have tried to work for. As much as it pains me to say so, while this works out for -me-, you would inevitably attempt to fight Him and I would have to watch him rend you limb from limb, or disintegrate you, or any number of countless horrible ends that you would regenerate from simply to be thrown into the next torment. I may -want- Him to awaken and feed the aether of the world to Him to restore our fallen brethren, but for -you- to be that price is unacceptable. And you would be, mark my words."

The Warrior tilted her head, studying him for a moment. From the furrow of his brows and the thin line his lips had settled into, he was visibly upset at the prospect, and finally with a sigh she stepped forward and turned so that she could sit on his lap. 

"Alright. But the goal was sort've to try and apply a portrait to Him and fix some've what's wrong with Him, what with all the terror and despair that He picked up when He was being made. I don't need to be strong enough to beat Him, I was sort've thinking just... Strong enough to clear that out've him so He could think clear-headed. Negative emotions spawn as void thingies, after all, so I thought maybe that might be part of His problem." 

Emet-Selch deflated a little as she leaned her side against his chest, only to sigh and pick up his coffee. "Yes, well... You have a long way to go before such becomes a possibility. I will admit that the idea has merit, when phrased such. You would only need to be strong enough to pierce His defenses." 

"Yeah, that's what I thought too. I guess we need to find Elidibus after all."

"The Emissary?" The Ascian took a sip of his coffee and set the mug back down on the table, looping his arms around Priscilla in a hug. "Whyever for?"

"Well, I mean his aether's always been pretty much the same as Zodiark's, right? And I remember he dropped some pretty big hints about a reason why, for example Zodiark likely making the same choices he would. So if I can find him, I can probably get another piece of the puzzle and get closer to finding a way to convince your god not to eat everything. Besides, Lahabrea's running himself ragged and I need someone who can teleport to help me set _so_ many plots in motion." The Warrior turned slightly to put her back to his chest, grinning as he huffed and tucked his chin on her shoulder. "What. You're _Tempered_. You'd sabotage all my work or stay on the sidelines doing nothing at best."

Hades flinched, arms tightening around her as his jaw clenched. 

"You think me a fool, to so easily allow myself to be goaded into giving you my permission to act on that. This was your plan."

She reached up at his sullen, accusatory tone and smoothed her fingers through his hair. "You hate it, that you can't help me. You hate yourself, for being torn in two all the time between me and Zodiark and because you keep seeing me wade into danger while you're sworn to -let- me and hope that I permanently cripple myself somehow. I figured all you might need is a bit've a push, and I wasn't lying. I really did hope that you'd come up with something."

A bitterness unrelated to the black coffee he had previously enjoyed filled his mouth, and he buried his face in her shoulder before gritting his teeth. 'You can trust me' was the message she had meant to convey by sleeping beside him. A shudder wracked his form at the memory of the jaws of Cerberus snapping shut scant ilms away from his knuckles as with one hand, she pushed the lower jaw up and the other, laced her fingers with his and pulled his hand clear.

"Quickly then. Before I remind myself of the depths of blasphemy that this entails."

* * *

Sitting in his lap was more than close enough for her to be able to focus her senses and reach out to find his aether. He was tense, the entire mass of him roiling and compacting as he fought himself to try and let her in even as he simultaneously tried to keep Priscilla -out-. She debated for a moment what she might be able to do as a distraction, before physically moving to rearrange herself. Straddling his lap, she reached up to cup the sides of his face and tucked their foreheads together. 

A gentle tug on his aether invited him in, and he hesitated for a moment before tentatively bridging the gap. Similar with how she had invited Lahabrea to see her memories, so too did she guide him through to show him the same things. The way the land heaved and roiled as the shards were woven back into place. Beasts, beast men, people and plants carefully hoarded away by a variety of means and methods and protected from the process guarded by the Ascians and their allies. The tiny bit of Zodiark, working in tandem with Hydaelyn as allies, albeit reluctant. 

Hades soaked them up like a sponge while, as subtle as a thief in the night, Priscilla wove her reach through him. It was a slow, careful process that left her somewhat distracted, which meant the Ascian and his curiosity were able to nudge and turn the memories she showed to him towards others. How had they met? The Crystarium, as he greeted the Scions and immediately made her suspicious. The elezen with the pale gold eyes identifying and destroying his illusion. The twinge of _something_ in her chest (relief? Impossible.) as he stepped out of another rift to continue the conversation. 

Emet-Selch studied the memory, both her actions and his own, and with an ease born of practice studiously ignored the way impossibly fine filaments of silver were weaving through him. No, his focus had shifted to a memory of a pie shared in a tree, of thoughts turned inward and unvoiced questions of whether or not he was watching at any given time. Periodically, there were times where she had felt something along the length of her spine that raised the hair on the back of her neck, and came to understand that such was how her mind translated the sensation of being watched. She moved more carefully during those times, mentally wagering if it was him or someone else. 

One such moment seemed to have come at what she considered the 'worst' time. The Ascian followed the tangent and almost physically recoiled from the choking feeling that suffused it. Light, searing through her, trying to align her and overwhelm her blessing. The feeling of it crackling under her skin, as if she was made of fractured glass and the thickness it filled her lungs with. There, her vision fuzzed around the edges. And there, the 'reveal' of someone she had always known the identity of. Then, the sound of a gunshot, and his face. 

_("... sup on their sweet, sweet aether...")_

She couldn't speak, in the memory, couldn't breath, only think that he was such a smug _ass_ with his timing. Couldn't do more than choke as her soul roiled and her body collapsed under the onslaught of the blinding white haze of pain-

Her focus sharpened, herding him away from the recollection and more towards a series of bets, of little dolls. Of counting the days. Of being monsters. 

Vauthry's attack had stirred within her a _rage_. She had danced through the night, and wherever she went sin eaters fell. Cocoons were hacked open before the people inside could transform, sparing those that had been their companion the sight of their allies turning against them. Hades clung to that memory, analyzing each crystal-clear memory and the interaction that had followed as he felt Priscilla's aether within him _shift_. The way his armor, shield and sword had looked, the way it felt to perceive the barrier he had woven and split it partially into two, enough to get the blade in and hack it further apart until it dispersed. The unpracticed, clumsy first stages of her ability to Sunder. He watched himself play defensively, biding his time for opportunities that she presented. Some were traps, feints, fake openings, and slowly the glee when he was caught by one wore away the anger even as curiosity at his fighting style emerged. 

He was compared (rather unfairly, he felt) to the way Zenos fought-

Cold panic flashed through him as his Tempering was touched, tearing the Ascian away from the memory to find that Priscilla was everywhere. Panes of blue surrounded him, closed in on him, boxed him in while filaments of her aether reached every part. He felt like screaming, he felt like _drowning_ , recalled the way it felt to _choke on liquid light_. For a moment, he struggled and used his greater bulk to push outwards, aether tearing at her own before two fractured notes hummed through him. 

~~_< <Hhh-ddzzz.>>_ ~~

She was warmth, she was jagged edges turned carefully away so that he wouldn't hurt himself and she was holding still, halting her efforts so that he could have the time he needed to recollect himself. 

It took a very long moment for him to do so, but when the Ascian finally managed to do so, she was just as careful and gentle as she had been and baited his focus away with memories of a frozen land and a beautiful Ishgardian aurora.

* * *

Emet-Selch opened his eyes and found that, clearly, his panicked attempts to struggle had had _consequences_. He was sprawled on his back and surrounded by broken kitchen furniture. He felt surprisingly empty without either his Tempering or Priscilla's aether woven through his own. Still, he reflected as he caught sight of her a few fulms away, trying to upright the table, she certainly had a point in that it _was_ nothing like the intimate connection aetheric sex contained. 

Oh, _no_ , it was -much- more invasive than that. 

"... I think I see why you insisted that I sleep. That was exhausting."

"You're telling me, that was loads harder than the other two." She turned and smiled faintly at him, before sitting down at his side. "You alright? You, uhh..."

"-Please-, I find myself rather more worried about -you-. I attacked you." 

"Several times." Holding out her hands, she wiggled her fingers at him until he took her hands and let her help him up to a seated position. "Sore in ways I didn't expect, but I've had worse. Least I didn't have to dig into you the way I did Lahabrea. He was in a lot've pain at the end of it. Elidibus I can't say much on, the Speaker still hasn't found him. How... do you feel? If I say-"

"That Zodiark sucks, I find I do not care." Reaching up, Emet-Selch rubbed his temples and sighed. "I will need time to recover my strength."

"Okay. Let's get you back to the bedroom, yeah? Then I'll come back here and try and do something about the carnage."


	43. Chapter 43

By the time the Architect bothered to mention that Lahabrea was waiting outside, Priscilla had managed to move the broken furniture off to the side and return to the bedroom for a brief nap. When she asked if he was ready, he answered with a grunt, a wave of his hand and then snapped his fingers to garb himself in his Garlean finery. She spent a long moment studying him as he hauled himself off of the bed and drifted down to the ground before shrugging and following him down. 

"Did you tell him to return for you?"

"Nah. Just told him my plan was to knock. Though, we're sort've expecting word on when a few problems start moving. Maybe something's happened?" She broke into a jog to keep up with the Ascian as he drifted along and rubbed his temples. 

"'Tis apparent he is distressed in some way." 

"How long's he been out there?" When Emet-Selch gestured at the blank wall that formed the entryway, it vanished to reveal the Speaker pacing irritably back and forth. 

"Ten minutes or so. Lahabrea."

"Emet-Selch." The black robed Ascian looked between the two of them for a moment before orienting properly on the Warrior. "Igeyorhm and Nabriales have been convinced to speak with you, but I lack the strength to corral the others. In addition, it appears that Zenos has taken steps to act as you requested in all regards save one."

"He's attacking Nidhogg isn't he." Priscilla's expression soured as Lahabrea nodded. "Bloody hell, it hasn't been a week yet, has it? Take me to him. While I don't know if he can take the giant dangernoodle on his own, I -do- know that he's going to get hurt either way. Emet-Selch, can I ask you to try and find Elidibus in the meantime?"

The Architect sighed, before nodding and turning as he stepped into a rift. The Speaker's mouth pulled into a frown as he gestured to the departing Ascian. 

"His Tempering..?"

"Gone. C'mon, the longer we wait the more likely Garlemald's crown prince gets eaten."

* * *

Zenos was -roasting-, and only partly because of the thickness of his armor. Still, he felt pretty good about himself. If he completed their hunt, surely the Warrior of Light would _have_ to praise him. Which, really, meant that she would _certainly_ have to spend the rest of the week she would have otherwise waited for the demise of the wyrm taking on this ghost ship she had passingly mentioned. Perhaps even sharing the secrets of how to combat this 'tempering' that the eikons controlled their minions with. Naturally, together they would figure out ways to allow him to overcome such a handicap and fight the powerful monsters together. 

Part of his fleet was already scattered about the mountains, having been knocked out of formation or crashed under the dragonfire that had rained in retaliation to their own barrage. The rest had formed up and fired in sky-clearing volleys, staggering their shots and covering one another as he led a landing team to the area that they seemed to be defending. A storm-shrouded mass of spiked purple and grey rock, it seemed, and after losing three unfortunate souls he rather felt he had gotten the hang of anticipating where the lightning was going to strike. The fine hairs and abrupt increased smell of ozone in the air was all the warning he needed. 

Others were not so fortunate, though they seemed to be _slowly_ learning how to manage the area. The one dragon-snake-thing that had called lightning had fallen only recently and managed to take half of his remaining strike team, leaving him with a dozen men. They were holding their ground as reinforcements made their way to them, when the Warrior rather abruptly dropped down in front of him. 

Reflexively, he had swung with his half-a-sword, wiffed, and blinked as she just as reflexively countered and pulled the force of her blow, leaving it to simply tink against his breastplate. 

"... I'm not counting that as a kill. Zenos what in the seven _hells_ are you doing here? And what happened to your sword?"

"I broke it across the back of a dragon, Warrior. We hold here until one of my suitable replacements arrive. What of yourself? I did not expect to see you again so soon." Blue eyes narrowed thoughtfully. How had she heard of his attack? Did she have spies among his ranks? It was true, that moral among the XIIth had been at an all-time high ever since he had crossed paths with her, but for one to be a traitor...

"A body-hopping demon told me you'd decided to be an _idiot_ and moved on this location." She sheathed her swords, stepping to the side without looking as the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. Sure enough, a bolt of lightning hit the ground nearby. "I suppose the saying 'the first casualty's always the plan' has got some merit after all. It's too late to get you to retreat, so give me the run-down on who's bringing your-... Wait, where's your sword caddy thing?"

"I was thrown into a cliff and the clasp broke. A team descended to recover it. Currently-"

"Ap, nope, that was all I wanted to know. Tell them not to bother." The Warrior turned to the Garleans huddled against the side of the cliff, and raised her hands. "Hey! I need a volunteer to let a body-hopping demon possess them. The rest've you get to go back to the ship or hold this position as Zenos sees fit. Eh? Look, _you're_ useful and less likely to fuck anything up. 'Sides, I need a master of fi... Forgot about that. Nix the volunteer!" 

"... Is your body-hopping demon... Cloaked from sight, somehow?" Zenos looked between her and the empty air she had addressed, eyes narrowing once more as she nodded. "You have no right to command my forces. I am their Legatus."

"Then command them to stay here. You and I'll be enough, they'll just die and unnecessary casualties are sort've not my thing. They'll just get underfoot." Drawing one sword, she flourished it and then offered it out, hilt-first. "Well?"

The blond swordsman eyed the curved blade, before accepting it and testing the balance. "Very well. You men will stay here as we carve our path forward." 

There was an audible sigh of relief from one of them, though they all affected innocence as he panned his gaze over them.

"Careful, the sword's designed to snap at the hilt if used to block wrong. Speaker, would you do me a favour and find out just where the black angry dangernoodle is in all've this?" The Warrior nodded before turning and heading up the path. 

Zenos, for all that he was beginning to doubt her sanity, followed while taking a few practice swings to get used to the blade.

* * *

Lahabrea returned shortly to report that Nidhogg was, in fact, exactly where she expected him to be. It seemed that Estinien had been part-way through trying to goad him when the Garleans had struck, and the dragoon was playing hide and seek as he wrestled with the eye in his possession. Priscilla was torn between relieved and irked, because on one hand it meant they had an expert at killing dragons nearby who could use the eye to shield them from a particularly dangerous attack, but on the other it meant trying to convince Zenos to _share_. 

The Ascian had disappeared once more, though Priscilla wasn't exactly certain where he'd gotten to or why. She wasn't particularly concerned however, he was at least -somewhat- smart and able to make his own decisions after all. No, the Warrior was more worried about the Blond swordsman who swept along in her wake. 

Or, at lest, she started out worried. It didn't take more than three encounters of her trying to direct him out of splotches of fire that hadn't yet appeared before he told her to shut up and step lightly. Priscilla would have argued except for the fact that he seemed to have decided to stick close and shadow her movements. 

Provided she didn't stand in anything bad, then he was close enough and quick enough to also avoid it. They worked surprisingly well together, she realized, with his increased height and reach (even with her shorter blade) able to cross the distance over her head and keep jaws busy as she gutted or cut a throat. He seemed to find her ability to position and move useful too, considering she was faster and tended to hit first before he caught up and stole a kill. 

They came to a suspiciously empty plateau, and Priscilla squinted suspiciously around the low wall they had taken cover by before he flourished the sword and grimaced. 

"Such a short blade, little better than a dagger. Yet fitting for your style of fighting. Trained by the Doman ninja?"

"Not really. In Limsa Lominsa, there's a sisterhood that I was part've. It's just how they protect themselves." 

"Curious. And we are waiting for...?"

"There's supposed to be one ugly fucker that screams in glee when his own poison runs down his back. I'm not... Seeing him though? Should have a giant nose, tiny mouth and a big head." The Warrior craned her neck, peering around and making a quiet sound of disgruntlement when the dragon in question remained absent. "... Am I going crazy?"

"You speak to a, and I quote, 'body hopping demon' that only you can see." The flat of the black blade in Zenos' hand plapped onto her head, clicking slightly against the mask before he slowly pushed himself up from his crouch. "If you cannot go to your enemy, you must bait him to you."

The way she stuck her tongue out at him was hidden by her mask, fortunately, and he slowly paced into the center of the ring as he surveyed his surroundings. When nothing happened for several long seconds, Priscilla pushed herself up and meandered casually out as well. 

"... Well, I'm not gunna say that this isn't -weird-, but uhh... Yeah. That way?" The Warrior gestured to the path ahead, and started carefully picking her way along the rubble. A few large corpses of a lesser aery dragon and some aery vouivre littered the ground and she noted them as she balanced along the rounded curve of a fallen pillar to get to the flat space in front of a set of stairs. Finding a very dead Gyascutus in the middle of some smaller wyverns, she paused and nudged the corpse with a boot. 

"This was the ugly fucker I was talking about." 

"I can hear fighting ahead."

"Estinien. I really wish folks would stop starting without me." Priscilla nodded up the stairs and caught up to the blond swordsman at the half-way point, bolting past him. "If you see an elezen with a giant red eye, don't kill him!"


	44. Chapter 44

Estinien fought a war on two fronts. 

The barrier he had managed to raise was holding. Barely, but still holding, keeping Nidhogg's claws, fangs and fire away from him. Wedged into the gap between two spikes and under another, it was taking all of his concentration to both keep the shield from falling and keep the eye itself from controlling him. 

Still, he was tiring. The dragon knew it too, taunting him and batting at the orb like a cat with a ball of yarn. The last swipe had broken the tip off of one of the spikes keeping the barrier in place, and Nidhogg had roared with laughter when the dragoon had said he hoped it stabbed the beast. 

Abruptly, the elezen felt _movement_ , like a hand brushing his shoulder, and glanced only to note that the space was empty. It was enough to break his concentration on the Eye, and with growing defensive anger, he looked back at the barrier, expecting it to flicker, to fail. 

It didn't. It held. In fact, it felt as though it was getting _stronger_. Something else was controlling it, reinforcing his work, and he thought it the strangest thing to happen that day including the abrupt appearance of the Garlean forces. The irritated thought that it was only going to get stranger drifted through his mind, and he thought nothing of it until - familiar as he was with an outside force trying to control him - he realized it wasn't his own. 

Estinien almost dropped the Eye, until he realized his hand wouldn't let go of it. 

* * *

Priscilla hit Nidhogg across the hamstring with the force of something much larger, and nodded in satisfaction before dropping abruptly prone to avoid the tail that lashed out and tried to swat her across the platform. She had rushed up to the dragon as he clawed and swiped at the faint flicker of blue he had wedged between a bunch of spikes and taken a strike she had hoped would cripple him. Zenos, who had been perhaps a handful of fulms behind her, grunted at the impact as he was swept off his feet and thrown almost clear all the way to the stairs. 

She trusted that he would be fine as Nidhogg rounded on her, getting her feet under her in time to dash to the side and impact with two of the long horns that framed the dragon's face. The Warrior had a moment of perfect clarity as to -why- his horns were they way they were (unwieldy things that they looked like) when they essentially funneled her towards the jaws. Pain radiated up through her arm and side as his teeth sank in, and for one disorienting moment she found herself being shaken and held in place as heat began to well up from the wyrms throat. 

Oh, she thought to herself as the head angled up and gave her just enough of a toss to be airborn. 

This was going to _suck_. 

A tall armored figure snagged her by the leg as he passed overhead, and the roar of frustration combined with the billow of fire had her opening her eyes as Estinien touched down and then dropped her unceremoniously. One of her hands helped guide her into a roll, as opposed to landing face-first, and as she tried to push herself back to her feet she found that one of her arms was simply missing and one of her legs didn't quite want to support her weight. 

"That didn't suck nearly as much as I thought it would, and I'm thankful for that. Don't mind me, I just need a few minutes." Priscilla waved at the dragoon and then blinked as she realized it meant she had also lost her remaining sword. "And if you see my arm, huck it this way will you? I need that sword." 

"You must joking." Estinien grimaced as Nidhogg's attention was briefly stolen by Zenos, the blond swordsman having physically hauled himself onto the hindquarters of the dragon and anchored himself with the curved sword in his grasp. "That is a fatal wou..."

He trailed off as she dug her fingers into the stump of her arm, shuddering in time with the double thump that radiated outwards before wisps of aether started to reform the appendage. "Harder than I thought it'd be but hey, it'll do. Well? Go on, Prince Bustle can't jump like you can, and he's gunna trap the Garlean in a ball of burning fire soon." 

The dragoon stared for a moment, before shaking himself and charging off, keeping an eye out for her lost weapon. It was easy enough to find, considering the hand clasping it was disintegrating into the aether that swirled and reformed into an arm where the Warrior sat. A leap had him vaulting over the thrashing wyrm so that he could tuck the end of his spear under the hilt and power slide it across the ground like a puck in a Winter Veil festival game. Another thud nearby drew his attention to the way Zenos had been forcefully dismounted, and as the Garlean started to stagger back to his feet Nidhogg oriented on him and reared back. Dark flames burst into existence around him, hauling him into the air as he curled reflexively until Estinien launched himself across the field to disperse it and watch as the blond swordsman hit the ground hard. 

A roar burst from the wyrm, a call for reinforcements, and the dragoon cursed as Nidhogg retreated to an upper plateau and began to gather his aether. His warning was drowned by the way biasts swarmed him, words lost to the snarls and roars that abruptly turned to yelps as Priscilla swept through them. She paused to check on Zenos and then cursed as a larger dragon dropped out of the air essentially on top of them. 

"What do you -mean- stay close? Bloody-" 

Nidhogg's maw opened, and a roaring torrent of flame washed over them. Estinien, braced for the pain as he was, grit his teeth and then blinked as the fire parted around them. The dragon engaged with them screamed in pain before being reduced to ash, and the fire closed around the three a little more snugly. He could have sworn that he saw a figure briefly outlined in the flame, hands out towards the dragon, but as he shook his head and the fire died out their mysterious fourth was nowhere to be found. 

To the Warrior's eye, Lahabrea had sunk down after parting the fire, form fuzzing around the edges before she stuck her hand through his back. A tug on his aether and the exhausted Ascian retreated to the sanctuary she offered, before Priscilla saluted Nidhogg and charged right back in. He didn't seem to appreciate that, roaring and cursing, and this time when he lunged forward and bit down the Warrior jumped. 

She disappeared into the maw, and left a dagger every inch she was swallowed further. 

Her efforts threw him into a frenzy, thrashing and rasping until Estinien fell from the heavens like a bolt of lightning and put his spear through the back of the wyrms head. Zenos was quick to close the distance and begin hacking into the neck until the head came free and Priscilla was able to scrabble back out with a wet gasp, coughing and hacking. Laying among the blood and gore, she dragged her mask free and tried to find a dry patch of her clothes to clear the acidic saliva from her face. 

"Well. That could've certainly gone worse. Zenos, Estinien. Estinien, Zenos." 

Both men eyed each other as she flopped back and exhaled heavily, simply glad that both survived.


	45. Chapter 45

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Partly, the story thus far

It was times like this that Priscilla was thankful for the fact that the people she had known and loved didn't exactly have the same attachments to her now that they had in the past. It meant that while Estinien was injured and exhausted, he wasn't going to try and protect her from Zenos. On the other hand, it also meant that he wasn't going to listen to her if she told him to stop aggravating the Garlean. 

Still, the Warrior wasn't without her tricks. A slight tug on the connection between her and Fray unraveled it, and she held out a hand to pull the mass of aether out of her shadow. As the dead-eyed hyur brushed off his dark armor, Zenos let his retort trail off and stared, face twitching through a myriad of expressions before settling on fascinated. 

"Another aspect of the ancient magic you spoke of?"

"Sort of. Estinien, I know you don't -need- the help, but I'm sending Fray with you. I'm sure the Legatus is alright with making sure these two are left alone?" Glancing to the Garlean prince, she spread both hands to indicate her shadow and the dragoon, expression souring behind her mask as he slowly quirked a brow. "Look, you fucked up my plans after I won the match. Work with me here."

"I will concede that I may have... Accelerated your plans somewhat, but did you not enjoy the thrill of the hunt? Were you not entertained? Was not the point of your current endeavor to negate something you perceive as a nuisance?" He grinned at her, before waving a hand as she gestured to Fray and Estinien, who had drawn away to speak quietly to one another. "Oh, very well. If you must insist."

"The first step is admitting something was hooped. Fray?" Priscilla twisted to look at her shadow as he waved a hand at her. 

"I'm bloody well competent enough to do this. Any plans for the ship?" 

"It'll take a bit for Hraesvelgr to settle things here, but fortunately it seems _someone_ is keen to get really involved and I don't see why we can't take advantage of his huge fleet and go Voidsent hunting." The Warrior reached up to adjust their mask as Fray thumped her on the shoulder. "Help Ishgard stabilize, will you?"

The shadow nodded and looked to Estinien, before the two of them started picking their way through the rubble. A smaller Garlean ship settled overhead and dropped down a line, and the Legatus snagged it before grinning expectantly at Priscilla. 

"Yeah yeah, I'm comin'."

* * *

"Tell me, Warrior of Light." They sat in the infirmary, Zenos stripped down to the synthetic shorts he wore under his armor, the shirt dumped onto the cot next to him. A pair of Medicus flit about him, binding his chest and applying first aid. Potion-soaked wraps were taped to his back, pulling slightly as he gestured to where she was lounging with her feet up. "Your arm was missing from the elbow down. The wyrm tore it free. Yet here you are before me, all appendages present and accounted for. You pulled a man out of your shadow, and dove into the very belly of the beast. How long would it have taken you to free yourself from such?"

"Why do I get the feeling you want to get me dissected." Tucking her hands behind her head, Priscilla idly wiggled one foot from side to side. "Look, I could tell you, but you're exactly the type to try and replicate it with magitek and kidnap tons of people to experiment on. And doing that would _absolutely_ make me never fight with you ever again."

"A trade then. What would such information be worth to you?" 

"Zenos, did you really ignore what I _literally just said_." Exasperated, the Warrior sat up and swung her legs off the side of the cot, resting her elbows on her knees so that she could fold her arms. 

"I could just as easily arrange for the acquisition of others with this... magic, Beast. Such would certainly prove more entertaining and give a far more accurate picture of how far apart your specific strain is from what might be considered the standard." His smile was all teeth, head tipping down as his eyes gleamed. "Do you not care for them? Many of your actions revolve around your self-declared creed, your attempts to minimize unnecessary loss of life." 

"You know why that's a bad idea. You're not an idiot. I'd hear about it and _arrange_ for the most boring death on your part. Something anyone could have survived, but you don't. Like choking to death on _soup_. There's no fun in that."

"Then we are at an impasse, save for the fact that you know I am doubtless liable to become bored and act." The large Garlean leaned to mimic how she sat, hands cupping his elbows as he continued to grin. "You seek to leash and train me like a hound. You have since the moment you came to me in Garlemald and disassembled the gunblade I used, do not dare to deny it. As you say, I am not an idiot. You wish to end the war, and return Doma and Ala Mhigo to their natural peoples, stymie Garlemald's conquest."

Priscilla studied him for a moment, before laughing and leaning back. Hands settling against the mattress on either side of her, she leaned back and idly swung her feet. "Sort of. Not entirely wrong, I'll give you that. Was that what this was all about then? You proving that I can't steer you one way or another? You're destined to be hated by everyone, and as your great-grand dam I can't just let that happen. I don't _really_ care if Garlemald wages war against the world. I can't afford to. I just need to get everyone to stop poking each other with sticks because something bad's gunna happen and to survive, you're going to need each other." 

"Something bad. Something that even your ancient savage magic will fail against." The Legatus straightened his posture, idly rubbing a hand along the covered bruising that mottled his torso. "Does this power you have grant you visions of the future then. I have noticed quite often you move before the enemy begins to strike, using such to avoid an attack, and wondered at your familiarity with my style of fighting." 

"Sssort of-"

"Do others with this power see the future?" He was leaning forward once more, watching her intently as she reached up to pull her mask free. At her quizzical look, Zenos seemed to realize that he was more than just proverbially on the edge of his seat, and settled back. 

"It varies. Most people who are Warriors of Light can understand languages they've never heard before, for example. Otherwise the magic usually just prevents them from being Tempered." 

"But some can. You claim that it varies, not that such would be impossible." Lifting one hand and waving it, he dismissed the pair of Medicus as they finished removing the patches that had been taped to his back. The bruising there was less severe, and they both saluted as they left. "You are reluctant to speak of such. Is it to protect them, I wonder, the lesser beasts? Or is it to stall what you perceive as efforts to gain this power for my own." 

"Both. What I'm trying to stop is specifically related to primals, and I need them alive and safe before it all goes to shit." 

"You foresee burning cities then." The words were casual as the blond swordsman stretched one arm, slowly rolling his shoulder to test his flexibility. 

"Among other things. Land opening up and screaming as monsters start pouring out, and _then_ a giant rock prahh, eikon, coming out of the moon and Tempering everyone. I understand if you think I'm crazy, but-"

"I don't." She paused at his words, blinking and smoothing her fingers along the inside of her mask as he looked at her. "It seems I have some strain of this ancient magic as well. I dream of it, the land opening up and screaming as monsters crawl out. This... giant rock eikon. It is a dark violet, and red."

Priscilla continued to blink for a moment before holding up one hand. "I, uhh. Okay. How... Long have you dreamed of this?"

"As long as I can remember. Perhaps your ancient savage magic can yet be stirred within Garlean veins." He looked smug at that, and the Warrior slowly lowered her hand. Her expression went blank, before she cocked her head to the side. 

"Alright. See anyone sitting beside me?"

Zenos scanned the air to either side of her before narrowing his eyes and shaking his head. 

"Not the same thing then. I dunno _what_ you have, but that's a little... Does anyone else know?" 

"The roulette of therapists I went through as a child until I stopped mentioning it. They attempted a variety of methods that failed to yield results." 

The Warrior sat and stared at him for a long moment, periodically shaking her head or nodding slightly as if weighing options and thoughts. "... You're right. Maybe Emet-Selch'd know more about this." 

"Talking to your body-hopping demon friend I take it." The blond swordsman folded his arms, lips pulling down into a glower as she shrugged and nodded. 

"Yeah. He's advising me against what I'm about to do because you're known to be mentally unstable, but I think to earn trust you've gotta give some. So I'm going to give you some."

* * *

Long ago, the world was full of aether and all manner of creatures that used it. The ancient people of the city of Amaurot acted as stewards of the Star, and possessed great power. Each one individually could just make things out of aether, like pulling an apple out of thin air. They weren't the only ones who could do this, but they were the strongest. They were ruled by a council of fourteen of their best and brightest. 

One day, the world cracked open with a scream. The Amaurotine people who went to investigate became sick, infected with what came to be called the Doom. It turned their ability to just make things against them, and their fears made monsters of all kinds start appearing. Pulled out of thin air, with as much ease as an apple. They couldn't stop, and the sickness spread. 

The Convocation - the council of fourteen, that is - worked hard to try and find ways to save the Star. City after city fell. Swaths of land became barren and the water poison, until one of them had an idea. 

They would make an eikon. The first eikon, and that eikon would reach out and stop the devastation. It would fix everything. It would _save_ , everything. The cost would be half of the people of Amaurot. 

One of the members of the Convocation didn't like that. After arguing for a long time, they left to try and find an answer on their own. When the time came though, they didn't have an answer that would work for everyone, so the rest of the Convocation went ahead with the plan they had. They were almost too late. I think, maybe, they were hoping their fourteenth member would come back with a better answer. 

_(Priscilla hunched, a frown pulling the corners of her mouth down as her gaze dropped to the floor._ _)_

She didn't. Amaurot _burned_ for their hesitation, with the spreading Doom on their doorstep. The sky rained fire, and corpses littered the ground. People, torn apart by their own fears made manifest. The rest of the Convocation sacrificed half of the people of their city and from the ruins rose the first eikon, Zodiark. 

He reached out, and stopped the Doom. Stopped the people's fears, probably by Tempering most of them. The Convocation who were there, were Tempered. One of them had even gone so far as to tie his essence directly to the first-

_(She paused, glancing to her left and tilting her head. Puzzlement painted her face, before she blinked and looked alarmed, and then sad.)_

... He became the heart for the eikon, and later evicted himself because his people needed him. I didn't know that before, but it makes sense. Still, Zodiark fixed it so that the world wasn't screaming any more. Everything was at rest as they all tried to pick up the pieces of their lives. But the world was still inhospitable. Nothing would grow. So half of the survivors gave themselves to the first eikon to fill it with life again. 

It worked too. Those who were left tried to come to terms with the lost that they still remembered, but they wanted those sacrificed back. Zodiark could fix it. He was a god, he could do anything. All it would take, is to groom the world to bursting with life and then wish for the people who had been sacrificed to come back. 

Some people didn't like that though. They disagreed, and believed the world belonged to the new people who lived in it. Strife rose between the two factions. I don't know a whole lot about what happened between them, there's different versions. The one that I'm familiar with... 

The Fourteenth member of the Convocation came back, and was branded a traitor because they left to find their own answers. The rest of the Convocation tried to get them tempered by Zodiark. They disagreed, said there had been too much death already. That getting those people back wasn't the answer. That the people who were Tempred had lost their free will, that Zodiark was using them to feed Himself, just for the sake of more power. 

They fought. The Fourteenth ran away, and kept running. Eventually, they split themself into three, used aetheric accelerators to give themselves enough oomph to make the second eikon, Hydaelyn. Hydaelyn and Her followers, Zodiark and His, they fought and in doing so, broke the Star. It was Hydaelyn, you see. She sundered Him, and because Zodiark was tied to the land, it was split as well. Thirteen Shards, and the Source. Separate worlds. 

_(Here, Priscilla grimaced.)_

I don't know a lot about what happened right after that, but I do know this. Only three people were saved from being split into fourteen pieces, because the Fourteenth member of the Convocation actively sought to protect them. They gathered together, and worked over the millennia that followed to try and put their world, and thus their god, back together and going by the name 'Ascians'. That each success was marked by a cataclysm. That the last one was a handful of years ago, the release of Bahamut, and that only people with the Echo can see them. 

They know that the Doom is going to come again, and think that without Zodiark intact, they'll be forced to watch a repeat of what happened before. 

I also know that if Zodiark is put back together, He's going to devour the world. You know eikons constantly demand more aether, more crystals, and bleed the land dry. I have another way to stop the Doom and the monsters that're going to come with it, but I need a lot of things to line up before I can do it. 


	46. Chapter 46

Zenos tilted his head slowly, eyes moving from Priscilla to the air she had looked at, and then back to her. There was a long moment where he folded his arms in front of his chest, brows furrowing as he tried to work several things out at once. The Warrior glanced up at the movement and then looked away, for the first time since they had met holding the same expression he had seen countless times before. 

It spoke of someone knowing they were going up against something they didn't think they could beat alone, but determined to _try_. The blond swordsman had seen it before, mostly on the faces of people fighting to buy time for others to run. It struck him as wrong, that something other than him could stamp it across her face. 

"So your goal is to kill this eikon, as you have done others? To free the minds enslaved by it?" 

"I mean, it's _a_ plan. The fact that He's tied to the Star sort've makes that tricky. I'd have to sever that connection first, but I was sort've hoping I'd be able to fix Him so that He isn't... I dunno. I've got this _thought_ , that the reason He's as wrong as He is because of all the fear that went into making Him. See, I've been to the memory of Amaurot. I know a little bit about how the emotion that goes into making something influences the creation. And Bahamut, he was a -real- dragon before. It was the idea of him that was brought back, not the actual guy. Tiamat knew him before and what came after wasn't _him,_ just shaped like him." Priscilla's face scrunched as she wiggled her nose. "And Hydaelyn's an eikon, but doesn't mind control the people She Tempers? Just protects them from other eikons. So maybe... Maybe I can 'fix' Zodiark so that He doesn't control people. And if I can do that, then maybe I can make everyone happy by-"

The Garlean scoffed, shaking his head in disgust as he cut her off. "You pander to the wellbeing of the lesser beasts. What do you get, for making them _happy_ at great personal expense? You bend over backwards, dance to the cries of their wants and needs and exhaust yourself. To what end?" 

"Look, the more people I make 'happy' the more people will jump when I say so. They'll _owe_ me."

"How convenient for them. You pull their lost pets safely from the thin branches of the trees and then, later, maybe they listen when you tell them of the end of their little world. Is that truly what you want?" He gestured to her, expression sour. "All of your power, and you feel you must curry favour in order to gain their obedience when by right of arms they should simply give it instead." 

"What I want, Zenos," The Warrior heaved an exasperated sigh, waving a hand through the air. "Is to get all my dodo's in a row, get the world's situation sorted and then find where the seven hells your great-grandfather is and shag him into oblivion. Maybe see about inviting a specific elezen as a third. But _I can't do that when-_ "

"That, is utterly disgusting." The Garlean leaned back, shaking his head. 

"You asked what I wanted. It's your own fool fault for expecting me not to be honest." A smug grin crossed her face before she gestured to him. "You want to hear less about that? Never ask me again. The city-states arrayed against Garlemald don't work the way you're used to, they use diplomacy. It's a council, not a dictatorship. 'Least, it's going to be."

"It need not. Think about it. Help Garlemald conquer Eorzea, and then all you need do is give a single command." Zenos gestured to the airship med bay they sat in. "Think of how easy it would be, instead of convincing six leaders and their aides, defeating my father and claiming the might of our armies for your own." 

"Varis is surprisingly loved by his subordinates. Don't think for a second I haven't considered it, I have. They wouldn't listen to an outsider, there'd be a war of succession and then I'd have to end up beating up everyone in the Garlean chain of command. I don't have time for that." The Warrior waved a hand idly once more. "That's why I'm doing it this way. Aymeric of Ishgard's already in my pocket. Doma and Ala Mhigo, if you ship the bulk of your forces out of there, are also both in my pocket. I have the daughter of one of the founding members of the resistance where I can tactically apply her. I plan to hit the Azim Steppes in two months for their yearly brawl to win the throne. That leaves Limsa, who I'm a literal Storm Captain of. Ul'dah, who I _basically_ own the gladiator ring and already swept my way through to clear the entire land of countless problems and I've shared drinks with the Sultana and arm wrestled with Raubahn. I won by the way. And for Gridania..."

"Well, Kan-E-Senna's on my list of people to speak with, but the Sylphs _and_ the moogles all support me and they're all pretty tight with each other, so I've already got some leeway there. Garlemald's the only one left." 

"Not Thavnair? Or Sharlayan?" Zenos quirked a brow, considering her words. 

"Admittedly I don't have much tie to either of them. _But_. Here me out. Part of 'fixing' Zodiark was going to be getting Him to refresh whatever He did to the Star to fix it the first time. But instead of everyone dying, if I can get everyone to just give the aether they _can_ and personally offset that then nobody has to die, the world can be saved until the next big calamity, and I can worry about dismantling the fucker. And I think if I throw the dragons in there, then it _should_ be enough. I just need Garlemald to stop killing everyone who can freaking use aether." 

"Hence your attempt to leash me. You are aware that I am a Legatus of but _one_ legion, are you not? Even should I do as you ask, others will not." The blond swordsman gripped the edge of the cot on either side of him, eyes narrowing. "I will admit, perhaps you have given this more thought than I initially considered."

"I mean, that's true, but you're also the most dangerous and the crown prince. So if you point at someone and say 'don't do that', they're probably not going to do the thing. Still, talking to Gaius wouldn't be a bad idea, he's got a good head on his shoulders. Assuming, of course, he's still a Legatus. What? What do you mean it'd never work." Priscilla frowned off to the side, brows furrowing. "Oh come _on_ , He's at like, a hundred thousand people in strength -tops-, and I'm hoping to have you three for it too. The population of an entire continent should be enough."

Whatever answer she received caused her expression to sour, before she shrugged. "Burn that bridge when we get there. Still, Zenos, I've shared what I think I can with you for the time being, and your great-grandfather's apparently back somewhere that I can get to. Heal up, and once I've found the ghost demon ship thing, I'll let you know alright?" 

Typical, he thought. "You have given me much to think on. We will speak later." 

She gave him something of a pained smile, before a pitch black rift circled into being around her and swallowed her up. 

* * *

"For what it's worth I think it'll work." Priscilla leaned against one of the railings of Azys Lla. Beside her, Lahabrea floated and shook his head. "I get that you're the expert because you built Him, but c'mon. If it won't work, you've got to tell me why." 

"To start, you underestimate the gap between your strength and His. Before you object, I know you said you would have the strength of a continent and three Unsundered behind you, but there is a difference between such strength focused on a single point and such strength scattered across a surface. To my knowledge, you are the only individual to date that has successfully removed the Tempering of a primal. Zodiark was designed to channel vast amounts of aether at once. You, are not." He gestured to her, and then glanced over to the rift that opened and let a tired Emet-Selch out. "Architect. Can you explain to the Warrior why channeling the aether of the entire populace of Eorzea will not work."

"Speaker. Simple. You would explode, Priscilla. While you would then reform, the aether would be dispersed in an admittedly likely spectacular detonation and leave a remarkable crater behind, it wouldn't do what you want. What... is it that she wants to do with this aether?" The Garlean-shaped Ascian draped himself over her, cheek against her hair as he looked towards Lahabrea. 

"She's right here and can answer, y'know." Shifting to make herself a better leaning post, the Warrior stuck out her tongue. "I was hoping to use it to fix Zodiark. I've a pretty good idea of the limit to how much aether I can hold. If it could cover a continent in light and leave me the strength to fight, then it should be enough." 

"What? Oh. _Oh_." Emet-Selch straightened, before taking her by the arms and turning her to face him. Brows furrowed, he tutted and shook his head. "I need you to very carefully listen to what I have to say, little Monster." 

"Alright, what." 

Hades very carefully leaned into her space and then tilted his face slightly to the side. Expression schooled into very firm disapproval, he lifted up one hand and raised a finger. " _No._ "

Priscilla waited for a moment, before giving him a confused look. "... Is... Was that it?" 

"-Please-." Pale gold eyes rolled before he turned and started pacing back and forth in front of her. "First, the aether that you contained was only enough to, presumably, considering your stories and the way it felt, _barely_ counter me. There is a vast difference between the size of my aether and that of Zodiark. Second, even that amount, with the aetheric capacity collected from more primals than you have currently done so, was destroying you from the inside out. Third, such would necessitate the simultaneous offering of aether from countless individuals, and considering how long we Ascians have spent perfecting the art of manipulating them and your own experience with such, if you think you can get everyone to do even one thing within ten minutes then I wish you all the luck in Eorzea because you _will_ need it. Shall I continue?"

"Eme-" She leaned back as he cut her off and tapped a gloved finger against her lips. When she glanced at Lahabrea, he simply folded his arms and had the audacity to look smug. When Hades snapped his fingers in front of her face, she looked back at him and managed a weak smile. 

" _Four_ , and I cannot stress this enough, going directly against _Zodiark_ will not end well. At the height of your power, -yes- you could wound Him but not nearly enough. There is also the fact that He is tied to the Star. Anything you do to Him could have drastic unforeseen consequences. Case in point, when Hydaelyn sundered Him and split the Star as a result." Straightening, Emet-Selch folded his arms. "Five, there is still the matter of the incoming imbalance and possibly replicating your aetheric control to restore everything on a wide scale. I am aware you thought to possibly apply the portrait of your memory to the Star, and I believe this holds merit. Getting a vast number of people to channel their aether into aetherites and spreading the load may be useful for such a thing as it could be done in waves, rather than the singular attempt anything directed to Zodiark would require."

The Warrior brightened at that. "And with Zodiark still tethered to the Star, maybe that might work from this side or take him out've the equation. That's the in. It's the Star itself."

"The problem with that is that your memory of the Star is lacking, and even if it were not so you simply don't _know_ enough about the star itself and the workings of such. The portrait you would attempt to restore would affect changes on the surface, but no deeper." The founding father of Garlemald smirked smugly as they both turned to the Speaker. "Fortunately, we have something of an expert on at least one half of the equation, even if 'tis simply the further end of it."

"Okay, so all that's left is finding a way for me to understand the Star the way I understand myseeeahhh, problem. You sure I need to understand anything? For the longest time I didn't know anything about my Echo or Blessing." Priscilla turned back to the Architect as Lahabrea looked thoughtful.

"Not consciously, no, but Hydaelyn seemed to have done something about that. This will require research." One gloved hand waved before Emet-Selch sighed and draped himself over her once more. When she made a quiet sound and adjusted to support him, he sighed heavily. "For now, I am _exhausted_ , and I have rarely seen Lahabrea in such a state of aetheric disarray. We need rest." 

"Rest it is then. You coming Speaker?" Carefully, Priscilla turned and heaved the Architect's vessel up, giving him a piggy-back ride as Lahabrea looked affronted.

"I'll not cuddle with you, if that is your question."


	47. Chapter 47

Emet-Selch's vessel was, as expected, unconscious as soon as the Warrior curled into his side, both of them stretched out on the bed in his quarters. Perhaps just as expectedly, Priscilla was not. Lahabrea had taken to haunting the couch in the sitting area, mind drifting sluggishly as he focused on resting and recovering his strength as quickly as possible, which left her alone with her rather more active thoughts. 

Zenos had said a number of things she privately agreed with, for all that she knew it wouldn't work. How much easier would it be if all she had to do was go around beating up the leaders of the other factions to get them to fall in line... But no, that was only going to breed resentment. Garlemald's occupational hazards proved that much with ease, and she didn't mean occupation as in a _job_. 

She mulled the matter over for several long minutes before Hades stirred, sighed, and wrapped his arms around her. Rolling them both until he was practically squishing her against the mattress, he nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck and groggily muttered something about thinking too much. Smiling in the dark, Priscilla closed her eyes and turned her face to rub her cheek against his, slowly drifting off. 

Just the way she remembered doing so, countless times in the past.

* * *

Elidibus was hesitant when he eased out of a rift and into Azys Lla. He didn't quite know what to expect, but it certainly wasn't two exhausted Ascians stirring, essentially playing rock paper scissors to designate who would go and meet him, and then a smug Emet-Selch settling back into a comfortable semi-conscious state. The Speaker, for his part, was too tired to be more than mildly irritated and resigned as he shifted his focus and slipped out of another rift nearby. 

They spent a moment studying one another, a habitual check for injuries as both grimaced and recalled how the other had been hurt. It was a long moment before Lahabrea folded his arms and cleared his proverbial throat. 

"You seem well, all things considered."

"You seemed less inclined to hurt me than to try and restrain my aether. You are relieved."

The Speaker nodded, and then rotated in place to look out over the floating prison. "I am, yet before I continue I must know. Does Zodiark's grasp over your mind yet linger?"

The white robed Ascian tipped his face down, studying the nearby clouds before shaking his head. 

"In parts. Not enough to be more than a passing echo. You are concerned that I might... relapse?"

"Nay, the Warrior of Light is effective and I doubt that her confidence in her attempt is misplaced. An idle curiosity, is all. The constellations we mapped in crystal, who has them?" Lahabrea gestured vaguely down towards where the Architect dozed. "Like myself, Emet-Selch is no longer Tempered, yet I have noticed a perhaps unusual trend. There is much I have lost, and I would compare the common factors betwixt the Architect and his Effort as he has retained the most of the past out of us three Unsundered. Perhaps something can be done about your own failing memory as well."

"We have more pressing matters. The Doom has already shown signs of emerging within the next century. If we cannot rely on Zodiark-" 

"The Warrior of Light has several ideas for such, there is much to catch you up on. Who has the constellations?" The Speaker pivoted in mid-air, orienting on Elidibus and scowling. Hidden eyes lifted to study him, before the Emissary's lips pulled down in an ever so faint frown. 

* * *

"Warrior of Light." 

"Elidibus! It's good to see you. Sorry for, uhh... Well, how rough I had to be. You alright?" Priscilla brightened as she straightened, perched on the counter with a rather suddenly sulking Emet-Selch sweeping away from her to fix himself a cup of coffee. "You look better than I thought, all things considered. If I say Zodiark sucks butts, how do you feel?"

"Mildly irritated, but nothing I cannot manage." The Emissary lifted one hand, smiling faintly. "I seem to be in better condition than my Unsundered brethren. What have you asked of them, to run them so ragged?" 

"Nothing more than what's necessary to stop the doom, with the condition that they have to be willing to do it, 'course." The Warrior smiled sheepishly, reaching up to rub the back of her head and then slide her mask down over her face. "Has Lahabrea filled you in on the current feasible plan?" 

"Curry favour with the mortals so that they heed you and act as you desire, when you desire, and then attempt to apply your 'memory' of the Star without the Doom in waves to stabilize the transition. The two major setbacks will be the 'memory' itself, and the aether required to power such." The white-robed Ascian slowly lowered his hand to his side tilting his head slightly. "Is there aught I have misunderstood?"

"Nah, you've pretty much got it. Each major setback's got a number of minor ones. Like the aether itself, I need to finish getting Garlemald to stop waging war on everyone, at least for a little bit. I've come to realize that I can't exactly stop them from it, just slow them down and redirect them a bit. To which, credit to your empire-building skills, mister Architect." The masked hyur turned her face towards Emet-Selch, who's lips twitched up at the corners into a smirk. 

" _Ages_ of practice, my dear."

She gave him a thumbs up, answering grin hidden as it was. "From there, it's a matter of trying to calculate roughly how much aether it'll take for each 'wave'. Provided enough people survive we can do as many as we need, but there's got to be a certain minimum threshold we'll need to hit to make progress or draw even, and man am I bad at math."

"Fortunately, we happen to have the greatest minds on the Star currently in the same room together." The Garlean Founding Father gestured to the other two Unsundered with his mug and then took a sip. 

"Will this even work?" Lahabrea frowned, drifting through the table as he drew closer. "We attempted something similar to restore the sundered pieces of the Star as I recall."

"Similar, but different. We failed because we were attempting to create something from nothing, that is to say we were attempting to recreate the missing pieces. This is relatively more possible if only because of the ability Priscilla possesses. When slain, she automatically 'resets' to a time before she was injured based on the 'memory' of her uninjured state." Emet-Selch moved to lean against the counter next to Priscilla, one arm folding across his chest. 

"It works even when I don't die, if I'm given some time to focus. One've my arms got bitten off by Nidhogg, and it turned into aether and then reformed." The Warrior lifted their arm, smoothing her other hand across the unmarred skin. "Didn't scar or anything. I've done it to other people too, so I know it can be applied to things other than just me."

"You told me that when you did, there were side effects." The Speaker's lips pulled into a frown as he folded his arms, chin tucking down slightly. "Have you thought of any ways to avoid such?"

"Better accuracy of the 'portrait' is all I got so far. Which means I need to know what's what. With something the physical size of the Star that's... Well, there's a reason it's the other big major problem. Zodiark probably has that knowledge, considering He rebuilt everything basically from scratch? But I dunno where I'd even begin trying to get it from Him. I was sort've hoping Elidibus could help on that front, heart and all that." Priscilla gestured to the white-robed Ascian with a hopeful tilt to her head. 

The white-robed Ascian continued to smile faintly, before shaking his head. "I doubt I hold the knowledge you require. That was... A very long time ago."

"But do you think you could _get_ it. We've got the Heart of Sabik, which is a piece've Him right?" The Warrior looked from Unsundered to Unsundered, hands plapping onto her knees. "It'd risk you being Tempered again, but I've faith you can shake it off provided it isn't a full thing right off the bat. You're strong, you all are. Otherwise I'm out've ideas on that front."

"To try on a whim is unwise." Elidibus shook his head. "I will need time to look into the possibility before I make an attempt to determine how feasible it may be."

* * *

"Esteemed Emet-Selch."

The Architect glanced back to note Lahabrea was following him as he stalked the halls of Azys Lla. They had gone their separate ways after their little 'meeting', the Emissary to deliver Priscilla to wherever the Crown Prince of Garlemald was currently causing trouble and the Speaker presumably to somewhere in the sea of clouds to help look for the Mhachi ghost ship. Something filled with voidspawn would stand out to their senses, so it was feasible to believe he had been there and back already, but something about the disembodied Ascian struck Hades as odd. 

"Loquacious Lahabrea. Finished your task so soon, have you?"

"It occurred to me that it would take Fray another few days to get into position. There will be plenty of time to search later." The floating Ascian clasped his hands behind his back and drifted along, keeping pace with the Architect. They traveled silently for several long seconds before Emet-Selch heaved a sigh. 

"'Tis plain to see that you are distressed beyond your injuries. You didn't so much as twitch at the verbal barb." 

"I have a side project I find myself picking at, yet I seem to have hit something of a roadblock. I could use your aid, if you have a moment. If you find yourself busy, then instead I would ask for the constellations we etched. Mine, yours, and the one belonging to Elidibus."

Fine brows furrowed as the Founding Father of Garlemald ambled along, periodically side-eyeing Lahabrea. "The crystalline stones that hold the imprints?"

"The very same." The Speaker drifted a little further forward, twisting slowly to watch the Architect as he slowed and eventually stopped. "Elidibus believed you still held them." 

"I do. We're a little past the point of appointing successors."

"'Tis not the intended use for them at this time." One clawed hand lifted and swished through the air, as if to wave away the theory. "It is not a particularly important project, Emet-Selch. Simply an idle project to sate a mild ponder."

"-Please-, this very topic agitates you." The Architect turned, pale gold eyes narrowing. "'Tis more to this than you imply. I will give you your own, but none of the others. There is something suspicious about your demeanor." 

The Speaker was silent for a moment, weighing his options before letting out a non-existent breath. 

"What if I told you that I have reason to believe we have been remade into a preconceived notion of 'who we are'."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why is unexpectedly a word but expectedly flagged with that red squiggly line : \


	48. Chapter 48

When Priscilla stepped through the rift and onto the rooftop, she hadn't expect to find not one, but three people there. Zenos, naturally, considering he was the person she had asked to be brought to was expected, but Gaius and a vaguely familiar suit of armor that had a giant two handed gunblade were somewhat off putting. She stood there, eyeing them through her mask as Zenos removed his helm and grinned. 

"Well now, you came at an opportune moment my Beast." 

" _This_ is the Warrior you spoke of?" The dark blue suit of armor folded his arms, and all of a sudden she was struck with the memory of one of the primals in Azys Lla. 

"Hey, I know your voice. You're, uhh... Regula! Regula van Hydrus! But you..." Words trailing off, Priscilla reached up to cover the mouth of her mask. He wasn't dead. He hadn't sacrificed himself for Unukalhai. And if he wasn't dead, then... "Oh _Zenos_ , you brilliant, tactical _genius_. You brought the most honourable man in Garlemald into this."

"I told you, my Legion would likely not be enough. You know of our goal, and I have shared the bones of yours with them. To prevent the awakening of the first eikon, and perhaps even the destruction of such if it might be possible." The Crown Prince leaned against the low wall along the edge of the roof, folding his arms. 

"You got van Baelsar onboard too?" She looked back and forth between Gaius and Zenos, noticing the subtle shift in the posture of the former before she raised her hands. "Honour _and_ intelligence? Uhh... I'm sorry I blew up your Weapon. Don't shoot, I come in relative peace this time?"

"Are our names so well known that any dog in Eorzea can recite them?" Regula scoffed, one hand lifting to rest on the hilt of the Bastard. "This is an enemy of Garlemald." 

"Look, it wasn't anything personal. Killing the pri-ahh, eikons the way Garlemald was going to was just going to incite greater panic and make them re-summon them stronger. Did he tell you about how eikons mind control people?" Stuffing her hands into her pockets, Priscilla glanced at where Zenos was eyeing van Hydrus like a wolf that had spotted an unaware rabbit. Still, he nodded, and so the Warrior shrugged. "Just think, what'd happen if the pilot got tempered. Then you'd have a servant of the eikons locked into the Ultima Weapon. Who could and would use it to kill as many people as possible. You of all people can see how dangerous they can be with that ability. I'm not your enemy in this, I'm theirs."

The blue armored Garlean seemed to think about that for a long moment, before slowly relaxing his grip. "... If I had not heard of the fight 'twixt yae Galvus and Titan, I would not have believed you."

"You have _no_ idea how lucky it is that he didn't get tempered from that." The Warrior grimaced behind her mask, and then eyed the Crown Prince once more. "I'm not entirely sure he _didn't_ get slightly tempered and just shook it off because he's a stubborn, driven bugger that does the exact opposite of anything anyone tried to tell him to do. It happens in stages for the strong willed, all at once for the weak after all." 

"And not at all for you." Zenos pushed himself off of the wall, before gesturing to the other two. "They have yet to believe me when I claim to have a difficult time earning a victory against you." 

"I think I see where this is going. I'm proud've you, Kid. Learning to share your toys and all. Got a venue in mind, so we can do this your way?" She grinned at him as the blond swordsman rolled his eyes and snagged his helm. 

"I do, in fact. Do you know Garlemald well?" One hand swept out to denote the snow swept buildings around the one they were on top of. When she nodded, he pointed toward the east. "There is a training field with a running track around the outer edge. Shall we start our little competition off with a race?" 

She ohh'd dramatically as he clipped his sword caddy to his hip, and then stepped up onto the wall beside him as he turned to face the indicated direction. "On three?"

He sounded like he was grinning as he stepped up to balance on the ledge. "One?"

"Three." 

She stepped off and plummeted down to the ground, landing lightly as she tucked and rolled to play out her momentum. The loud _thump_ of him following had her cackling as she sprang up and took off. He was sparing no effort, charging down the main road in her wake as vehicles veered aside. Shouting chased her, and she figured from the way traffic evaporated the further they went that he must have sent word ahead. Twisting to jog backwards, she waved cheekily at him as he started to catch up. 

"Hey! Would it be more insulting if I just took off ahead of you, or if I kept just far enough ahead to be motivating?"

He unclipped the sword caddy from his hip and hurled it at her. Catching it, she blinked as he surged past her and then cackled, spinning on the spot to give chase. She couldn't blame him, considering just how much extra weight it was. It had almost knocked her off her feet when she had caught it after all. Still, even with hauling it along she was hot on his heels. 

More footsteps approached, and she glanced back to Regula and, a little further back, Gaius were also giving chase. Priscilla almost felt bad for them, she really did. It didn't stop her, however, from minutely adjusting her Blessing and bolting past the Crown Prince to leave them all behind, extra weight bundled under one arm like the worlds weirdest sports ball. 

* * *

By the time Zenos thundered through the gate that marked the edge of the park, he was breathing _slightly_ harder than he thought he should have been, and began to walk a lap around the track that ran the outer edge of the field. It had been a two mile near sprint as he tried to catch up and utterly failed. He had, however, noted the faint spark of electricity around the Warrior when she had flashed past him, and mulled over this new information until he was half way around the track. By then, van Hydrus had entered the gate and began to walk his own lap. 

The blond swordsman slowed his pace to wait for the older Legatus, grinning like mad beneath his helm at how Regula was huffing and puffing like the bellows of an ancient forge. The oldest of the three of them, Gaius, was last to enter and seemed the least winded. Zenos felt perhaps he had simply paced himself better, and finished his lap to join the Warrior where she was stretched out in a patch of grass beside the long jump sand pits. 

"You relied upon your ancient savage magics."

" _You_ are wearing powered magitek armor, and all I got is regular clothes. Strip down and race me if you want something more 'fair'." She sounded like she was grinning, and he felt just the teeniest bit of pride as she propped herself up on her elbows and continued. "Still, you _made_ me resort to that. Not everyone can do that, y'know. I always forget just how fast you can be. I can't fault those two old men for being slower, it was sort've unfair to invite them to race. Gaius is, what, forty? Fifty?"

"Closer to sixty."

"Six-!?" Priscilla sputtered, before whistling and collecting one of the bottles of water and tossing it up so that the blond swordsman could catch it. "Well shit, now I feel _really_ bad. How old's van Hydrus?"

"A little less than a decade younger." Pulling his helm off, the Crown Prince took a measured sip of water and then screwed the cap back on. 

"And Gaius was more than twice your age. So you're... Not quite thirty?" Pushing herself to her feet, the Warrior scooped two more bottles of water and hefted them thoughtfully. "It's hard for me to remember how old I am, considering I've lived two lifetimes. Twenty? Thirty?" 

"You seem little older than myself, truthfully, and partially due to your demeanor at times. Childish, naive."

"Suck it, Zenos." One of the water bottles was held suggestively as he snickered and took another measured drink. "Man, do Garleans even sweat? You don't look moist at all."

"'Tis part of the technology within the helm and the under armor. It reduced the number of failures chalked up to impaired visibility due to sweat or blood running into the eyes of the individual in question." He lobbed his helm at her, and she tucked both bottled of water under one arm to catch it. Turning it, she stuck her hand along the edge of the forehead rest and made a quiet sound of disgust. 

" _Ew_. Hey, van Hydrus! Want some water?" 

"Not from the helm of the General." The blue armored Garlean padded over, looking between the two and then catching the bottle of water she gently tossed towards him. "How did you do that?"

"I dunno, I just went up to the refreshment stand and said I needed some water 'cause Zenos was incomi-." She paused, and then very slowly turned to tilt her head at Zenos.

"Not that. Your burst in speed." The Legatus of the VIth legion sounded like he was frowning and leaned back slightly as the Warrior lobbed the helm back at the blond swordsman. 

"You said you were just a Legatus! You rat bastard! You're the entire _General_? I thought half your political power was Legatus, and the rest was everyone deferring to you 'cause of the Crown Prince and just generally being a bitchin' badass!" She lobbed the last bottle of water in her grasp at Zenos as well, watching as he tossed his helm slightly, caught it by a different part and then used it to scoop the latest projectile as he didn't even try and look innocent. "I'm half proud, half pissed off!" 

"It matters little in the grand scheme of things. Most tend to defer to the orders of my Father, after all, so I rarely bother to use such a title. To convince him, you will need to first convince them." The helm was angled towards where Gaius was padding closer, and he stepped off the track to come and collect the bottle of water from the blond swordsman's helm. 

"And to convince them, I've got to do things your way. Which, really, is gunna be absolutely cathartic for me." Priscilla stretched, before setting her hands on her hips as Gaius worked his helm off and took a measured sip from the bottle in his hands. He eyed it suspiciously, but otherwise made no comment. "Do you guys need some time or something? That was a two mile run in ten minutes for Gaius. The average person carrying that weight would prolly take half a bell at best." 

"You forget how we Garleans are physically superior to the 'average' Eorzean. You are not the standard of your people." Zenos dropped the bottle off to the side, sliding his helm back on as the other two Garleans dropped their drinks next to his. 

"Tell you what. If any of you gets tired, you can sit off to the side for however long it takes to recover and then jump back in." The Warrior drew her swords and paced a few feet away, flourishing one. "Zenos has the advantage over the two of you considering I've been fighting with him for while now. Don't feel embarrassed about taking your time with this." 

Zenos stepped over to his sword caddy and clipped it to his waist, before turning to orient on her with the slow inevitability of a beast cornering his prey. 

* * *

Priscilla dredged through her memory to remember everything she could about how the other two fought in melee combat. They all had melee wepaons capable of ranged attacks, which meant there was just as much danger if she kept back as there would be if she jumped into the thick of things. The three of them spread out, Gaius and Regula flanking Zenos before watching her for a moment with their weapons bared. When they were equidistance from her, she idly tapped the flat of one of her blades against her shoulder and then habitually flourished it. 

Van Hydrus had the heaviest blade of the three of them. That one would be a pain to block directly with the weakness in the hilts of her swords. The firearm that Gaius held had something of a more slender blade, but she remembered he preferred a mix of stabs and sweeping slashes. The blond swordsman had his nth gunblade in hand, held loosely to the side, and was slowly shifting down into a ready stance. Who would swing first, she wondered. 

The ground under her lit up with orange, and she grinned behind her mask and dove into a roll towards van Baelsar. Regula's massive beast of a weapon swept through where she had stood, and as she came up she booked it back away from where Zenos was stepping into fill the gap even as Heirsbane whistled through the air above her and sliced a thin line through the trailing material of her rolled up sleeve. One of the black blades came out to slap it further away and then slide yae Galvus' stab to the side. 

The Warrior realized something then as she backpedaled faster. Zenos had gone low, and over his shoulder and helm the Bastard whistled across. The very moment it was clear, the blond swordsman was right there, poking and prodding at her defenses as Gaius took potshots and swung wide. They had _teamwork_ , which was surprising considering she wasn't sure she knew of any instances where the three of them had ever actually fought together. 

It was becoming increasingly clear that she wouldn't be able to win or even hold her ground without drawing on her Blessing. Still, the morbid curiosity that lingered within her was curious as to how long she could last without it. It had been too long, in her opinion, that she had last fought without relying on the more physical aspects of it. 

Both blades came up to sweep aside the gunblade in the Crown prince's hands, and she took advantage of his latest lower stance and the way she had extended his arms out to his left to step in slam her forehead against his own. The material of his mask cracked, and she grinned as he surged forward in response to bull rush her along the grass. Slipping aside, she went partially under him and planted one blade in the ground to halt her momentum. The other hooked upwards, the back catching under his knee as she shoved upwards to put him off balance. 

It put her face to face with Regula, who somewhat smartly led with the heavier shot from his weapon point blank instead of taking a swing. It caught her in the shoulder and staggered her enough that she set aside the notion of closing in on him and instead swept her offhand blade across to start deflecting shots from Gaius. She mentally cursed at the fact that the ground was constantly a wash of orange and how it made it difficult to pick out who's attack was going to land where. 

Still, the fact that the orange hadn't vanished from the ground had her racing for the side away from van Baelsar, using the greatsword gunblade wielding Garlean as partial cover and narrowly avoiding the way Zenos swept through where she had just been. He gestured towards her with his weapon, the other hand resting on one of the hilts of his spares. 

"Come now, you are capable of so much more. Did you let yourself get hit?"

"Look, it's got an impressive, girthy barrel. Of course I was curious about how much kick it's got." She grinned behind her mask, rolling her shoulder as she started readjusting her Blessing. "It's official. I can't take all three of you with your power armor without using that ancient savage magic I was telling you about." 

"Ready to take this seriously then?" The Garlean Crown prince sounded like he was grinning, and nodded towards her as Gaius and Regula moved to flank him once more and shared a glance as she pointed first to van Hydrus, and then to the Legatus of the XIVth. 

"You, then you. Hope you're prepared." 


	49. Chapter 49

Priscilla was surprisingly tired, considering the four of them had only been fighting almost non-stop for three or so bells. She had been distantly aware of the crowd that had gathered but only really started paying attention when an unaccounted for patch of orange lit up the ground under her. The startled 'My Lord!' from Gaius rather clued her into what was going on, however. 

Spinning, the Warrior swept one blade up and slid what looked like a standard issue gunblade aside like it was just another cobweb, using her offhand blade to swipe at Zenos' second replacement. She was somewhat surprised to find a lack of resistance on the blond swordsman's part, and let her momentum take her a few feet away to take stock of the Crown Prince. He certainly didn't look happy, breathing hard and focused on his father with a tight grip about the hilt of his current weapon. 

"Emperor Varis! Welcome to the dance." Flourishing one blade, the Warrior reversed her grips on both of her weapons and stepped smartly into an imperial salute. A side-eyed glance confirmed it, both Gaius and Regula had dropped to a knee, and Zenos as expected was padding closer to her in a less than pleased way. 

"Explain yourself." Yellow eyes remained on her until the blond swordsman stepped between them. 

"There is nothing to explain. This is a joint training exercise between myself and the Legati of the XIVth and the VIth Legions." 

"Need I remind you, that savage behind you slew your great grandfather." 

" _That savage_ is _my beast_. You took an Ilsabardan swordsman and held his family hostage to force him to teach me swordsmanship. Taking a mentor of my own is the natural progression, Father. I will not tolerate any interference." 

* * *

The Warrior stepped through the door to Zenos' chambers a half-pace behind the Crown prince himself, and slid it shut. The blond swordsman limped over to the massive four poster bed and hauled off his helm, dumped it on the floor and then turned to stare at her with an expression that went from composed to the biggest, most feral grin she had seen on him yet. As he sat down on the edge of the bed, he started to laugh, pausing only to press a hand against his ribs and wince slightly. 

"Did you see him as we walked away? He looked like you made him suck on a lemon half!" Moving over to the writing desk, Priscilla dragged the chair closer and then sat on it backwards, draping herself against the backrest and then grinning. "Man, Regula's weapon has a hell've a kick to it. Bastard shot me once and it still stings."

"The look on his face, oh, my -friend- what a pair we make." Starting to doff the rest of his armor, the blond swordsman snickered. 

"If he tries to put me under and then lock me up, I'm not responsible for any lives lost when you realize why I missed a match with you." Sitting up, Priscilla started to pick at one of the many ragged holes in her coat. "Ech, I should've brought a spare. So who're you holding hostage to make me fight you, in the event anyone asks?" 

"Is it not more ironic to say your family, while neglecting to mention your professed affair with my great-grandfather? Father and I are your family, if such is considered to be true, and if you are given free reign there will be no need for me to kill him." 

"Is it true that he looks like...? I never really considered him part of it, y'know. Just you and Solus." Priscilla glanced towards the door as a soft knock sounded. A guard let himself in, a set of under armor in hand as he closed the door behind him. 

"I gave you no such permission to enter my chambers." The grin on the Crown Prince's face soured before turning to a look of confusion as the Warrior hauled herself up and, laughing, threw her arms around the guard. 

"You made it! Hey, are these for me?"

"-Please-, as if anyone else would know the proper sizes." Pale gold eyes rolled behind the helm as he handed the synthetic clothes over to Priscilla. "Van Hydrus utterly ruined your coat."

"Right, I should, uhh... Okay. Know how I've already said a whole whack of _really_ insane things?" Shrugging out of her coat, the midlander looked around for a changing screen and, on finding none, settled on pulling one of the draped curtains of the four poster bed closed so she could use it as a changing screen. "Solus has a whole bunch've clones. That's one of them. And for the record, I _didn't_ kill him, he was already dying." 

"A... Clone." Zenos studied Emet-Selch as the Ascian removed his helm and feathered his hair. "Tell me, Clone. Do you possess the strength and memories of your original." 

"Not that it's any of your business, but yes." Waving a hand at Zenos to dismiss any further questions, the Architect stepped past the edge of the curtain to start helping the Warrior. "This was _not_ part of the plan."

"Well, I mean I managed to avoid saying anything incredibly _stupid_ , though lemme tell you it was a close thing. And it gives me a pretend-legal excuse to come and go as I please. It's not the best outcome of today, but it certainly wasn't the worst. I'm one conversation closer to convincing Varis to stop killing everyone in Eorzea." 

* * *

"I wonder, is he _still_ upset that I deliberately chose no heir?" Emet-Selch huffed, fitting right in with the standard Garlean uniform as he paced down the halls with the Warrior as her acting 'guard'. "Best not to tell him that it was meant to incite the civil war that it did." 

Hands clasped behind her head as she padded along, Priscilla shrugged. Wearing the under armor that had been delivered for her and both loaded belts she usually carried, the rest of her clothes were draped over the Ascian's arm. Adjusting her mask slightly, she stifled a yawn and then dropped her hands to her sides. "No idea. Is it true he looks like our kid, though?" 

"The resemblance certainly is uncanny. Left here." Making the turn, he continued down the hallway and shook his head. "You have begun to sow the seeds of fear. I doubt many Garleans would willingly stand on the same battlefield as you unless they were particularly willing to martyr themselves for the cause after witnessing the display today." 

"That must've been one ugly baby then, to turn out that bad. That part's going according to plan at least. Next step is to convince the Legati. Gaius is way too loyal for his own good, but I don't admittedly know much about Regula other than his fighting style and that he's an honourable sort." 

"Frown lines have rather ruined the jaw. The two loves of Regula's life are music and ancient sword techniques and he is equally proficient with both of them. Through here." The door the Ascian led her to opened, and she stepped through after him and peered at the two machines that dominated the room. A purely chemical smell hit her nose, and she leaned back slightly and shook her head to clear it while Emet-Selch shouted over the magitek din. Something about a repair job, to which the (presumable) tailor took the offered clothes and eyed them skeptically. Nodding and shouting something back seemed to satisfy the Architect, and he turned and led her out of the room and back into the quiet of the hall as the door closed behind him. 

"I dunno if you've noticed, but I couldn't carry a tune in a bucket if someone handed it to me. Say, does Varis know you're an Ascian? Your bodies being cloned somewhere around here, right?" 

"I never told him. Perhaps he believes it was an attempt to prolong my life, if he knows of their existence at all. Is that the current plan to explain my existence? Are we keeping what I _really_ am under wraps?"

"Well, I mean I've mentioned Lahabrea by way of the body hopping demon bit to Zenos." Priscilla shrugged and picked a direction at random. Starting to walk back the way they had come, she glanced back at where Emet-Selch had fallen into step just a little behind her and blinked at the intensity to his gaze. "I think maybe that part's up to you to share. Any advice on how to handle Varis?"

The Ascian was quiet for a moment before tutting softly and shaking his head. "Advice? Leave it to Zenos. You have already made enough of an impact to give weight to his words, and rumour will spread. People may not immediately believe that there is someone that the Crown Prince struggles against, but he is not one to lie about such a thing." 

* * *

_("I know."_

_"What." Lahabrea halted in mid-air as Emet-Selch continued with a sigh._

_"I believe it was one of the major concerns regarding the removal of my own Tempering."  
_

_"You knew, and you still allowed her to-?"_

_The Architect spun in place, eyes narrowing as a sneer twisted his features. "Do you know what it is like, to have her within my grasp and yet he faced with a twofold reason as to why I cannot have her? One! Fundamentally opposed factions. Two! She looked at me and saw a version that did not yet exist!"_

_The words echoed through the hall as Hades balled his hands into fists at his sides, shoulders hunching. "I would give much to bring back our fallen brethren. I have always been willing to accept that sacrifice and bear that burden but I have loved her for longer than the Source and Shards have been split, and if this... This reconstruction, this application of her 'memory' of me is what it takes, then so be it. I have done my own research, I have made my own comparisons, and there is remarkably little different between myself as I am now and myself as I should have been without my Tempering."_

_"But there -are- differences." The Speaker folded his arms as the vessel-clad Ascian scoffed._

_"Trivial ones. The colour of my hair as an Amaurotine citizen is hardly life altering. This sets to rest her worries, her fears. She need not fret over the concept of being accidentally 'unfaithful', and I would bet my longevity that if I could have followed her through the process used to send her back I would have."_

_"And what of those who would have been unwilling to undergo such 'changes'? Emet-Selch, you may love her but Elidibus and I do not. What if we have been made into fundamentally different people. We need to look into ways to restore ourselves, and prevent her from doing so to others as well. To assess the damage done."_

_"The damage, that is far less than the Tempering we all unknowingly at the time underwent due to -your- creation. That you possess the awareness to even consider such a thing is a marked improvement from then." Pale gold eyes closed as the Architect took a deep breath and then let it out slowly. "... Do not mistake my words. I understand what has been done, and the potential it holds for ruin. I will give you the constellations you wish for minus my own, with a warning. Do not tell her what you have learned."_

_"She needs to know what she is doing to people." Lahabrea's expression pulled into a scowl. "Her actions and choices must be tempered by the knowledge of what it can do."_

_"She already suspects, and to confirm it would do more harm than good at this point. Do you know what the alternative to her current method was?" Folding his arms, Emet-Selch narrowed his eyes. "The equivalent of mutilation. A literal surgery, where she sundered the Tempering out of people, leaving them scarred. The drawback of such, instead of accidentally gaining perhaps a fondness for prawns, could have been a -lobotomy- and she is well aware of that, as well."_

_"She mentioned that. I... Thought perhaps she was describing her methods incorrectly." The Speaker's scowl eased into a frown. "I will take the constellations, and perhaps between the three of us working on this project together we will find a better answer before it becomes necessary to apply her touch once more.")_

Lahabrea sat at his desk, staring blankly at the veritable rainbow that was laid out in front of him as the conversation played and replayed itself out in his minds eye. 


	50. Chapter 50

"Wait. Is this a date? Are we on a _date_?"

Priscilla blinked at the out of the way cafe that Emet-Selch had eventually led her to. Already well into the evening, the fact that it was open at all baffled her until she noted that it was mostly inhabited by exhausted engineers making love to their respective cups of what could have only been coffee and pouring over notes in their private booths. A grin, hidden by her mask, pulled at her lips as she watched the Ascian saunter over to the counter and place an order or some kind and then come back to lead her up a set of stairs and onto an elevated patio. Glowing metal rods radiated heat in the corners, each carefully sheltered in a box as they chased away the cold, and a overhang supported by two latticework walls kept the worst of the wind and snow at bay. 

"That depends entirely on if you wish it could be or not." Moving to sit on one of the chairs by the table, the Architect pulled his helm free and wrinkled his nose. "I do _not_ miss how uncomfortable these are." 

Dragging the other chair over and parking it next to his, the Warrior plopped down and leaned on the table with one elbow as she reached up to remove her mask. "The crown Varis has to wear is every bit as ridiculous as I remember it being, too."

"The purpose was to be distinctive. I believe it fulfills that purpose quite well." Leaning against the table and cradling the helm between his hands, Emet-Selch idly spun the armored piece in place. "This was somewhere I frequented often as I worked my way up the ranks. Many a long night was spent here, tweaking blueprints and technological advancements." 

"Is -that- why you like to sleep so much? Making up for the hours lost when you burned the midnight oil?" Priscilla jostled him lightly with a shoulder, grinning as he hummed and smiled. 

"Whyever else could it be, surely there would be no other reason. At all. Ever." 

She snorted at that, before leaning comfortably against his side as he looped an arm around her. "... I shouldn't ask. I know the answer, but I can't help but want to know how you're holding up."

"Better than expected, admittedly. Without my Tempering I find myself remarkable clear headed and need not expend the effort to constantly second guess my own motivations. Your current method is certainly less damaging than your previous one, and while still not quite _ideal_ , Elidibus, Lahabrea and I will spend our time as we rest theorizing a better one." He chafed her shoulder lightly as she made a quiet, inarticulate sound. "You have done enough on that front, and have too many projects on the go as things stand. Tempering exists because of what the Convocation of Thirteen pulled into being, not the Convocation of -Fourteen-. You were absent at the time, lest you forget. Let those of us responsible bear this burden, while _you_ figure out a better way to pull the Shards back to the Source."

"I just-" She hushed as he turned her to face him, slumping as he quirked a brow at her. 

"You just think that everything that could ever be solved or fixed could and should be done by you? Hmm, good to see nothing has changed from the days of Amaurot." 

"That's not it at all, and you know it." Priscilla made an exasperated face at him, brows furrowing down and face scrunching. "I just feel responsible, for maybe, I dunno. Fucking up somehow removing the-"

Rolling his eyes, Hades leaned in and shushed her with a kiss. 

* * *

"That's not _fair_ , y'know. You can't just kiss away my theoretical mistakes. That's not how that actually works." The midlander pouted somewhat ineffectually as she cupped her mug of hot chocolate between her hands. The Ascian she was leaning against hummed smugly into his unusually foamy coffee, before setting it down and smirking. 

"Perhaps not, however I can distract you and ease your mental and emotional burdens. It could also be that I simply wished to kiss you, and you just _happened_ to be speaking at the time." 

"Yeah, -right-, I'll buy that. How much change to I get back?" Nudging his foot under the table, Priscilla tilted her head and eyed him as he assumed a thoughtful expression.

"Fifteen gil. Oh, but alas, there was tax. It appears you may just owe me extra in this case. I have been known to take payment in beverages." His smirk returned as she rolled her eyes and offered up her mug. He dipped his head down to take a sip before straightening and licking the residue from his lips.

"You better not backwash into it. The Twelve know the last thing I need is _caffeine_."

"They actually call that a 'mocha', you know. Half and half, hot chocolate and coffee. Unlike the latte that I have, which is essentially expresso shots and steamed milk." Sighing contently, Emet-Selch relaxed against the back of the chair and stretched his legs out under the table, crossing them at the ankle. A softer smile curved his lips as he looked out at the few flakes of snow illuminated by the patio lights against the backdrop of black lit by the city lights. "Do you enjoy this? A moment of peace, after fighting for hours and expecting to fight for hours again on the morrow." 

"I'm not gunna say no, because I'm comfortable, you're here and warm, y'know?" As if to prove her point, Priscilla snuggled a little more firmly against his side as she idly turned the mug between her hands. "But I don't know if I could do this all the time. Or if I did, I'd have to get used to it."

"A creature of movement, ill suited for rest." Musing aloud, the Ascian lifted his drink to take a measured sip, before sighing and setting it back down. "Well, fortunately for you it seems unlikely to last much longer." 

"What do you mean?" Tilting her head, the Warrior glanced up at his face before squinting and looking towards the door. "... Is that Nero?"

"It is, and he seems to know you are up here. The waitresses and waiters have no actual authority to prevent him from coming up here if he demands it. Do we vault over the railing, or wait." 

She made a show of thinking about it for a moment. "... You already paid for our drinks?" 

"I did."

The Warrior grinned, and then hurriedly chugged the rest of her hot chocolate.

* * *

With Emet-Selch 'climbing' (really, he was floating, but in the event that there were any onlookers he was at least making an attempt to avoid appearing weightless) along behind her, the two of them scaled the side of the balcony and very carefully picked their way across the roof in time to hear the tail end of rapid footsteps and then cursing. Stifling her urge to snicker, Priscilla picked her way from rooftop to rooftop until she had settled on a vantage point from which to watch the road. Sure enough, she caught sight of Nero as he stormed off down the sidewalk, hands in his pockets.

After a dozen or so paces he kicked at the snow, and she glanced over at Emet-Selch and then slightly nodded towards the sulking engineer. He gave her a mildly amused look and a tolerant mock-sigh, before making a gentle shoeing motion and putting his helm back on. The Warrior reached out to snag him by the sleeve and tug him along as she started to follow the ground-bound Garlean. 

They waited until he was outside of the gate to the barracks before dropping down onto the sidewalk a dozen fulms away. 

"They got you living in the ba- Easy, it's just me -barracks? Don't you have your own workshop or, I dunno, a big house somewhere?" 

Plastered with his back against the gate, Nero slowly slumped and let out a wheeze. The firearm in his grasp dipped slightly, only to come back up as he straightened. "You! The self-proclaimed 'somewhat of a prophet'!" 

"That's me. Sorry for ejecting you like that." Rubbing the back of her head, she smiled sheepishly and then blinked as she realized she must have left her mask behind. "Say, at the cafe-"

"Unless you intend to actually tell me about Omega, the future or something bloody well _useful_ , you can go and _sod off_." Nero lowered the firearm, glowering. 

"But _Nero_ , I came to tell you that I found some ancient Allagan ruins in the Burn and how to get there, 'cause boy howdy did I feel _really bad_ about having to cut our previous conversation short. But, y'know, I get it. I hurt your pride and probably more than a few ribs." Holding her hands in the air, Priscilla slowly turned on the spot and began to amble along the sidewalk. 

"You-" Several inarticulate sounds escaped the engineer, before he let out a frustrated, muffled curse. "Fine! Fine, get back here." 

Spinning, the Warrior grinned cheekily and clasped her hands behind her back, peering around her 'guard'. "Got a map?"

* * *

Emet-Selch knew what she was doing within _seconds_. Her amusement was all but a beacon for him, and he obliged her not so subtle remark about both of them being engineers and the possibility that Nero's Magitek hands were basically repurposed Allagan technology. They _were_ , but he wasn't about to admit the depth of his experience with the subject when she blinked blankly and shrugged when asked just how much the Architect might have known about it. 

Never having had the opportunity to speak with tol Scavia in his 'advanced' age as Solus, he was pleasantly surprised at how much the Garlean had figured out considering the general lack of usable information. He could go far, if given the right hints, and the Ascian deliberated and mentally debated the merits of such versus how much he actually cared. It seemed that the Tribunus Laticlavius had something of a passion for the topic, which was also a mix of flattering and weird considering it meant that Emet-Selch was essentially faced with what amounted to a fanboy. 

Still, he played the conversation out for as long as he could, pointedly failing to mention when he noticed Priscilla fade into the background. Instead, he kept a straight face as best he could when every single framed blueprint was, one after the other, tilted. The mugs were all turned rim up in the cupboard in the small kitchenette. Knives were turned so they were blade down in their wooden block. 

The silverware was very quietly shuffled into different drawers, and then she disappeared through a door into the back. When her amusement spiked, he broadened his focus and split his concentration. It was a little awkward at first, but no less difficult than looking through four pairs of eyes ever was. His vessel almost gave the game away as he turned an abrupt laugh into a polite cough. 

The Warrior of Light had broken into a safe hidden behind a painting, and painstakingly writing an entry about an idea for adult magitek toys into the journal she had found there. The handwriting was unmistakably different than Nero's, and once she finished she tucked the pen back where she had gotten it and then tucked the book back theoretically into place. The door was closed, locked, re-set to specific numbers and then the painting was hung back up. 

Crookedly, of course 

When she slipped back downstairs he seamlessly re-integrated her into the conversation as if she had never left the room, before she stretched. 

"It's getting late. We should actually head back so I can rest up for tomorrow. I'm probably gunna fight Zenos for real, so I'll need to be at my best." 

They said their farewells, and departed the apartment. Scaling the nearby building, they didn't look back until they were a block away, where the Ascian confirmed that Nero seemed to have found her efforts. 


	51. Chapter 51

"Morning Z-Easy, it's just me-Zenos." Priscilla grinned from where she had abruptly thrown herself prone to get under the sword that had swished out through the space she had just occupied. At his disgruntled acknowledgement as the sword was plopped back onto the bed beside him, she slowly stood back up and quirked a brow as he slowly sat up and pulled his hair out of his face. "Rough night?"

"Father requested my presence for a lengthy conversation." Scrubbing a hand across his face, he fished the slender sheath out from under his pillow so he could put the sword away. "I declined, naturally, so instead he came to me with a contingent of guards." 

"I don't think I'm ever going to _not_ be envious of how when you wake up, you're just... Awake. Ready to go, capable of full conversations. I'd be still trying to throw things at people." Grinning behind her mask, the Warrior sat on the edge of the bed as he blinked at her and then scoffed. 

"I have a hard time believing someone as unnaturally sensitive to changes in the world around them could be caught unawares while unconscious of all things, my friend. If you must determine the source, Garlemald has had more than her fair share of war and assassins." Swinging his legs over the edge, the Crown Prince pushed himself up with a sigh and started to see about changing out of his looser sweatpants and into a set of black synthetic under armor. Priscilla shuffled to put her back to him as he did, plopping her hands in her lap. 

"I mean, yeah, I'll be _physically_ awake and swinging but I'm not all there right off the bat. Lights on, nobody's home and whatnot. Do you have any legal or royal or military duties today?" 

"A few that even I dare not neglect if I should wish to retain my position. Having martial prowess is but two thirds of the position, unfortunately. I must also see about returning to Doma, but I can confidently say that Doma will keep until after we have traveled to this ghost demon ship of yours." 

"Aaanything that you can do sitting at a desk later today? Or does it all need you to be up and mobile." 

The sound of cloth being shifted paused for a moment as his suspicion became almost palpable in the air. "Curious. Why do you ask?"

"So, once upon a time there were two dangerous swordsmen in the world. Let's call them Two Swords and Three Swords. Three Swords was a much better swordsman when they met, but Two Swords survived the first fight between the two of them. Which was odd, considering Three Swords was only as bored as he was because everyone else he fought died pretty quickly." The Warrior leaned forward, tucking her elbows onto her knees and clasping her hands. Movement resumed behind her, across the room as the faint clink of metal heralded the time Zenos needed to put on his armor. "They kept clashing, and every time Three Swords was more excited and more happy with the rapid martial growth of Two Swords. And then, they finally fought for keeps, because Three Swords stole the power of an eikon made of the hatred and war locked the hearts of the dead. Two Swords won, but Three Swords had never felt so happy in their entire life. Finally, there was someone who stood equal, who understood the thrill and the rush of fighting to the death." 

An inquisitive hum from the Crown Prince prompted her to continue. 

"But Two Swords didn't want to kill Three Swords. It wasn't how they worked. They just wanted the killing to _stop_. Three Swords wanted to immortalize the euphoria of the moment, and knew Two Swords wasn't willing to kill them. So Three Swords killed themself." 

"This Two Swords sounds soft, and familiar." Making his way around the bed, Zenos moved to collect the sword caddy that had been left near one of the corners, helm under one arm. She shrugged at that, chuckling. 

"Three Swords was an _idiot_ and cheated the nations out of trying them for rampant warcrimes, but more importantly also left Two Swords screaming into the void in frustration because they were the only one at the top beyond that point. So don't get any funny ideas." Looking over, Priscilla hopped onto the floor and brushed herself off. "Well? You got desk job stuff to do later?"

"Admittedly, I cannot yet beat you if you use your ancient savage magic. You have claimed that you prefer to use it only to compensate for my magitek armor, as you lack a suit of your own." Nodding towards the door, the blond swordsman paced away and glanced back to confirm that the Warrior had fallen into step. "As disgusting as how it possibly came to be, the clone claimed to know your measurements?"

"Hey!" Priscilla pouted under her mask, tone accusatory as the door closed behind them. Said 'clone' was leaning against the wall with his arms folded. "I haven't boinked him yet, c'mon. He just keeps getting my clothes fixed because've how often they get torn." 

"... What." Something of a confused frown pulled Emet-Selch's lips down at the corners before the Warrior stepped closer and threw her arms into the air. 

"Zenos thinks any physical relations with you is gross! Probably because he doesn't understand healthy relationship kinks. Wait. Is our great-grandson still a _virgin_?" Rounding on the Crown Prince, she was quick enough to catch the way he rolled his eyes before he put his helmet on. "Do I have to find you a girlfriend?" 

"Focus." The Ascian snapped his fingers, drawing Priscilla's attention back to him. "Elaborate, and I don't mean on the Legatus."

"Oh. He wants to know my measurements so he can make me magitek armor."

"'Tis already made, it is a simple matter of having it properly fitted. If you must needs rely on your ancient savage magic for everything, it will become a crutch." Turning and making his way down the hall, Zenos slowly shook his head as they both turned to follow.

"And if I start relying on Garlean magitek armor, it'll _also_ become a crutch. I honestly dunno how to even things properly between us, 'cause even when I'm not using my Blessing it's still got a lot of passive effects that I can't exactly turn off. Any ideas, Solus?" Nudging Emet-Selch as they trailed along in the wake of the Crown Prince, the Warrior tilted her head. 

"Your unfamiliarity with the weight and extra bulk it would give you would act as a handicap until you acclimatized." 

"There is more. You claim to wish to avoid the abduction of countless fellow 'Warriors of Light'. Wearing it would allow a greater understanding of your ancient savage magic, Beast. What say you, engage in an _extremely non-lethal_ experimental trial and see what it yields? Or do we both strip down to our under armor once I have finished my morning duties and beat on each other like true savages."

"Yeesh, if Varis asks I don't think I'll say it's 'family' you're holding hostage after all." 

* * *

She didn't _like_ it. 

Priscilla had always considered Garlean armor to be ridiculous, especially when it came to the helms. She wondered idly who was responsible for the design, until she met someone she would rather not have remembered. Aulus mal Asina was personally responsible for overseeing the countless experiments, after all. 

The Ascian seemed to pick up on her agitation almost immediately, because he handled getting the run down on what the suit would or could do from scientist while two others gave her _another_ set of under armor to change into and then helped her don what turned out to be just as involved and layered as she remembered it being. Three layers total, between the padding and the metal plates themselves. 

She was eyeing the helmet with distaste as she hefted it, noting that it had short, back-pointing flanges similar to the horns that Nero's helm boasted and minorly grateful that it wasn't too extreme. She had thankfully avoided the Starlight ornaments that Gaius had to put up with, but instead it was flat-faced and had two slightly curved, glowing slits for the 'eyes'. 

"Well? Put the helm on." Aulus pursed his lips as he looked down at what Priscilla equated to a larger, wider tomestone. Whatever he saw there had him wrinkling his nose when she rolled her eyes and did as requested. 

"I feel ridiculous. And three times as wide." 

"Barely three inches wider at that, Subject Three. Cease your complaining, and do something useful to give me some readings." 

"Subject _Three_?" Putting her hands on her hips, the Warrior narrowed her eyes and took in the way she had much the same field of vision as she did through her regular mask, despite the fact that it was seen through red tinted lenses. "Have you been kidnapping people. Am I gunna have to break your legs and then have a _talk_ with Zenos." 

"Were you not listening? Irregulars, untrained savages with the attention span of a _gnat_ -" 

Emet-Selch stepped up, waving a hand to interrupt Aulus as he sighed. "The first was Zenos himself. The second, was another Warrior of light who was released after your initial discussion about such things. That the boy has cooperated is clear if only because you are _only_ subject three. While mal Asina may have the social skills of Fandaniel, from what I can tell the armor is designed to measure how much aether you use and how it moves at any given time."

"... _Nyeh_. I still don't like it. It's absolutely suffocating." Taking a few careful steps, Priscilla started making her way towards the Ascian. "Is he gunna have to follow me around for as long as I wear this?" 

"Likely." 

"Let's get this over with then. The sooner this thing's adjusted the sooner I can fight Zenos."

* * *

Moving quietly was _impossible_. That was the first thing she learned. The Warrior kept thinking that someone was following her only for it to have just been her own footsteps. The second was that the rest of the armor also made it hard to move as quietly as she preferred. 

The third was that every time Aulus opened his mouth, she wanted to fill the empty gap with her foot. She hadn't thought it possible to find anyone she instinctively hated anywhere near as much as Asahi, but mal Asina was quickly become a close second on that list. It was partially his utter disregard for life when compared to his value of results and partially because he seemed to think of his 'test subjects' as not-people, but mostly... 

Mostly it was because of how he spoke, as if he was by default the smartest in the room. She knew for a fact that it wasn't true, considering Emet-Selch was sticking close and patiently weathering the storm of utter _shit_ that came out of the scientist's mouth. He had more experience pretending to play nice with people he disagreed with, she realized, and was half grateful and half annoyed every time he redirected Aulus' ranting about how everyone would surely see that his research was key to the future of Garlemald. 

Still, everything faded into the background when the dozen of them (the scientist, after all, was guarded by an armed escort) made it into the testing area to find Zenos standing there with her number one most hated standing at his side. The snap of fingers brought her back to reality as she blinked and shook her head slightly, pushing aside the memories of every time she had wanted to gut Yotsuyu's brother. 

"Your Empirical Majesty. Is this a bribe or pre-payment for learning about the Blessing?" 

"You, who so values life that you would go to great lengths to minimize the loss of such, requested him did you not?" He sounded like he was smirking, and she cracked a hidden grin in turn. "I want to see what you will do."

"I had this whole blood match thing where we _actually_ try and kill each other without any armor or magic, and then you brought me this little shit."

**Author's Note:**

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